


The Course of True Love

by Salchat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Farce, Marriage Proposal, Pining John Sheppard, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salchat/pseuds/Salchat
Summary: 'The course of true love never did run smooth,' and especially not if there's a Wraith in your midst.  Doubt and suspicion lead to misunderstandings and mayhem in this romantic drama in five acts!
Relationships: Amelia Banks/Ronon Dex, Jennifer Keller/Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan/John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan/Kanaan
Comments: 45
Kudos: 21





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> After a spectacularly bad day last Thursday (my scan didn’t go too well), here, nevertheless, with much fanfare and flourishing, is my latest creation. It has various influences, which I’ve enjoyed weaving together very much, and, as a departure from my usual plots, is a romance. I think it works and I hope you will too. I will update daily.

The Ancient city behind him, a narrow path of pink dawn light ahead, Ronon waited. The path widened, shimmering and shifting on the surface of the ocean, and thudding footsteps approached along the pier. Laboured breathing whistling through overtaxed airways, John stumbled to a halt alongside; he bent over and coughed violently. Ronon nudged him.

"Look."

John's head raised, then dropped again, sweat dripping from his hair to the metal surface of the pier. He breathed a pained acknowledgement of the rising sun.

"You said you wanted to see the dawn. There it is."

The sun pulled free of the horizon, its golden glow chasing away the grey-violet half-light, and slowly lighting the towers of Atlantis. John collapsed to the deck, arms resting on his bent knees, head still down.

"You okay?"

A hand flipped in reply. John looked up and squinted at the rising sun. "Huh!"

"Worth it?"

He shrugged. 

Ronon lowered himself to the deck, unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, and took a long drink. He offered it to John.

"Uh-uh." John gulped thirstily from his own bottle, tipped some water on his head, and drank some more. "So, you going?" he said, his breath still uneven. "To this thing tonight?"

Ronon played with the cap, screwing it on a little way then loosening it.

"Hey! You in there, big guy?" John elbowed him.

"Amelia wants to."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You can join in with the whole Athosian whatever." John waved a hand vaguely and took another drink.

"Pledging. Teyla said it's for couples to... um... say how they feel. In public."  
"Ha, er, yeah." John rubbed a hand round the back of his neck and grimaced. "But there's food and drink though, right?"

"Yeah."

Everyone joined in, Teyla said. Couples who'd been together years, young ones who'd just met. You could say what you wanted; pledge undying devotion, or just, well, anything.

"Things are okay between you two, aren't they?"

Ronon shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

"So, what're you gonna say? Cos, if you're gonna do it, you'd better have something ready. Or you'll come out with, 'You're hot, let's get it on!'" John laughed. Ronon didn't. "Okay, you're worrying me now, Chewie. What's on your mind?"

Ronon put down his water bottle. He bent his neck and scrubbed his fingers against his scalp, letting his head hang between his knees. Into the dark space, he said, "I think she wants more. Forever, maybe."

"Oh. And you don't?"

Ronon jerked upright and looked at John directly. "I didn't say that!"

"Alright, put your knives away! What's the problem, then?"

Ronon narrowed his eyes. "Why're you asking? You never want to talk about stuff!"

John's gaze skipped over the waves towards the horizon, where white-gold sky promised another hot day. "I dunno. Maybe Teyla's rubbing off on me." Ronon snickered. John sneered and shook his head. "Dirty mind! Anyway, give! What's up?"

Ronon jumped up, suddenly needing to move. He leant on the railing, the sea breeze blowing some loose dreads in his face.

"I want all that stuff. You know, marriage, children, family?" His hands clenched around the top rail. "But they're still out there!" He whipped around and faced John, his fists clenched. "They're still out there, and I said, I swore, I'd never stop hunting, never stop killing, til they were all dead!"

"The Wraith," John said, bleakly. He shook his head. "You've got a good thing going there with Amelia. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know it. But just sometimes, I envy you."

"What?"

"To be a warrior, alone, fighting the fight, not tied down, focussed on that one thing."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess." John got to his feet, stiffly. "We'd better head back. I need a hot shower before I set like concrete."

Ronon followed John back along the pier, at an easy jog. Coming up beside his friend, he observed the droop of John's shoulders and the closed-tight blankness of his face. When they reach the transporter at the head of the pier, he said, "I always thought that maybe you'n Teyla..."

"Drop it, Ronon," John interrupted.

"But she..."

"Leave it." John turned away, avoiding Ronon's eyes. He tapped the display, there was a flash of light and they left the transporter and went their separate ways.

oOo

Rodney's breakfast tray was rapidly inventoried by protective eyes, and a discrepancy noted.

"Give it back, Conan!"

Ronon, directly across the table, raised innocent eyebrows. "Give what back?"

"There were two muffins here and now there's only one!" He jabbed the designated section with a forefinger.

"You don't need two." Ronon rose fluidly from the table, scooped up his tray in one hand, and produced the muffin from behind his back, insolently taking a bite as he sauntered away.

"One of them was for Torren!"

"Thank you, Rodney, but Torren has had quite enough breakfast."

The little boy on Teyla's lap clapped his tiny hands, grinned and yelled. In agreement with his mother or enthusiasm over the proposed muffin? Rodney shook his head. "Nothing is sacred to that barbarian!"

"C'mon, McKay, lighten up!" John, to his right, reached over the table to tickle Torren. "There'll be plenty to eat tonight. In fact you should save room by donating to a good cause!"

Rodney unwrapped his remaining muffin and took a large bite, his eyes on his team leader. He chewed, swallowed and wiped away some crumbs from his lips. "There's no better cause than feeding my brain for its day's stupendousness!"

John opened his mouth and raised a hand, but Teyla cut off his incipient wit.

"We must be going!" She smiled at Kanaan, who sat, awkwardly, at the end of the table. "There is much to prepare for the festival!" She set Torren down on the floor. "Come along, Torren! Time to go!"

"Go-go! Bye-bye!" Torren waved and the family group left the mess hall, the little boy's hand in his mother's.

"He never says much, Kanaan, does he?"

"He's probably in awe of your brilliance, McKay."

"Or your coolness," replied Rodney.

"Huh. I doubt it." John pushed his fork through the remaining scraps of his scrambled eggs. "That could be you, soon."

"What?"

"You'n Jennifer. With a kid."

"Oh. Yes. Maybe." Rodney crumbled his remaining muffin between his fingers, suddenly not hungry. "Um. I think she's having second thoughts."

"What? Why? Anyways, she's stuck with you now!"

"Well, yes, but that's the problem." He sat up and looked at his friend, searching John's expression for any reflection of his thoughts. "You see, at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. A quick wedding on Earth, so her father could be there, then back to Pegasus to resume our lives as intergalactic explorers, freedom-fighters, whatever."

"So, what, you think she wanted to stay on Earth? A picket fence and a nice neighbourhood instead of a city shield and a Wraith-infested galaxy?"

"I don't know!" Rodney wove his fingers together and rested his forehead on his linked hands. "Maybe it's me. I can be somewhat... cantankerous, upon occasion."

"No way!"

Rodney glared.

"Look, have you tried talking to her?"

"You're recommending actually talking?"

"Well, yeah, you know, maybe I'd rather go break into a hive ship, but that's just me! Talk to your wife, Rodney!"

"I have. She just says everything's fine!"

"There you go, then!"

"Where? Where do I go? That just makes it worse, because now I know she's hiding things from me!"

John sucked in his lips and stared into the distance, but, as no pearls of wisdom emerged, Rodney said, "You're lucky, not having to deal with stuff like this." John stopped chewing his lips and his gaze became glassy. Rodney continued, "I'm totally losing my focus on my work, which will inevitably lead to catastrophic consequences!"

John sighed. "Yeah. Lucky." His eyes rested briefly on Kanaan's chair and flicked away; he stood and picked up his tray. "Better go 'n' put my focus to good use."

Rodney frowned at his friend's closed-off expression. He decided to send out a diagnostic probe.

"Do you think they'll join in tonight?" John looked at him quizzically. "Teyla and Kanaan? With the whole pledging thing?"

"Yeah," said John, flatly. "Yeah, I think they will." He bussed his tray and left the hall.

Rodney regarded the sad remains of his muffin, and wished Newton had devised a law to explain human relationships.

oOo

Maybe he'd just give it a miss, this whole pledging festival thing. The food and drink'd be good, John thought, but watching his friends in their happy little pairs? Not so much. And, yeah, maybe Rodney and Ronon and had 'issues', but John had nothing. He changed direction, his office and paperwork too depressing to be faced. He'd go and see Todd. You knew where you stood with a hungry Wraith. John entered the transporter and descended.

"Sir."

He acknowledged the Marine with a nod. "Morton. Anything to report?"

"No, Sir. All quiet."

He stepped up to the cell, folded his arms and waited. The prisoner, his long legs stretched across the floor, leant casually against the bench, a paperback in one hand, the fingers of his other hand idly running through his long grey-white hair. He might have been a Romantic poet if it weren't for the blue-green skin and protruding teeth. He ignored John completely, ostentatiously absorbed in his book.

"Open it."

"Sir?"

John turned, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, Sir. Of course."

The force field flickered off, the bars slid to one side. John stepped in and the barriers were replaced behind him. The prisoner, his eyes still roving across the written lines, breathed a sinister welcome.

"John Sheppard."

"Todd."

There were books strewn all over the floor, as well as small playing card-sized plastic boxes, and in one corner...

"Is that a tape deck?"

"Indeed," said the Wraith. "I have been denied anything more technologically advanced, on the assumption that I might employ such for nefarious purposes."

"Huh. Good call." John stuffed his hands in his pockets, then withdrew them. He could have a seemingly casual conversation with Todd, but it would be a mistake to let his guard down. "So, got any Cash?"

The Wraith lunged toward him suddenly, hissing and snarling. John's sidearm was in his hands in firing position, the safety off, and there were reassuring 'weapons ready' sounds behind him.

"Not a fan?"

Todd subsided, a pacifying hand raised. "Forgive me! Such reactions become harder to suppress as my hunger grows."

John took a couple of steadying breaths then reholstered his weapon.

"Peckish?" He borrowed one of Carson's expressions.

"Hunger rages in my blood and tears at my flesh!"

"Yeah, well, sorry about that. Still haven't had any volunteers to be an appetizer!"

Todd wheezed a disconcerting laugh and returned to his book.

"So, what is all this?" John gestured at the littered floor. "You taking a college course?"

"Shakespeare." Todd raised his paperback. "Wilde, Byron, Keats." He indicated the strewn literature.

"And the tunes?"

"Mozart. Operas." Todd's cat-like eyes both dared and mocked. 

It was tempting to debate the relative emotional depth and complexity of Cash versus Mozart. But Todd was hungry, and only a fool teased a starving Wraith.

"Who brought them?"

A very human shrug was the response. "There are those that sympathise with my plight."

John would be taking names. "Beckett and Keller, er, McKay not come up with the goods yet?"

Todd sneered, baring his shark-like teeth. "They ply the tools of their dubious science, with no noticeable gain on either side."

"You sound like Rodney."

Todd hissed slightly and then appeared to become absorbed in his reading once more. John turned to leave but the Wraith's coldly reptilian drawl halted him.

"I wonder, to which queen will John Sheppard pledge his loyalty as this night falls?"

The bars of the cell before him, John felt the Wraith's mocking gaze in the prickling of his spine. His trigger finger twitched.

"That's none of your damn business."

He nodded curtly to the Marine Sergeant, the bars moved aside, and he left without looking back.

oOo

Carson took the slide off the microscope staging. He rubbed his stinging eyes and puffed out a thin stream of air between pursed lips.

"I think it's time for a different strategy." He tapped the slide on the workbench. "This approach isn't getting us anywhere."

"Oh, well, it's bound to take time, Carson." Jennifer smiled, though her eyes were as shadowed as his. "We don't even know all the secrets of human DNA yet and Wraith DNA is... quite a challenge!"

"Well, I like a challenge as much as the next man but we need results! If we don't come up with a humane way of feeding our live specimen soon, he won't be live anymore!"

"Live specimen," repeated Jennifer, uncomfortably.

"How else can we think of Todd? We both know he'd feed on us without a second thought, leave our dry husks and be on his merry way!" Jennifer's lips twisted and her eyes skated sideways, avoiding his. Carson shuffled his stool closer to hers. "Lass, don't tell me you've grown attached to a Wraith!"

"No!" Her denial was quick, but her expression didn't quite tally. "It's just, I know he's not human, I know he'd do the life-sucking thing on me, you, all of us!" Her eyes dropped. "But I just can't get past the whole 'do no harm' thing. Even for him."

Carson put his hand on hers. "You've a soft heart."

"Too soft."

"I don't think true compassion can ever be a bad thing." He squeezed her hand again. She sniffed and the dim light of the med lab reflected off her damp cheek. "Oh, come on, love, you're not really shedding tears over that monster?"

She shook her head. "It's not that."

"Things not going so well between you and Rodney?"

"How did you know?"

"I've got eyes in my head, lass," he said, gently. "Your smile used to light the room when he came in. And now, I hardly ever see the two of you together! What's happened, love? Has he been neglecting you? Too wrapped up in his own genius?"

"No. I don't know. I'm probably just being silly." She wiped her eyes and withdrew behind a pasted-on smile.

"If there's ever anything I can do, you will come to me, won't you? Won't you, Jennifer?"

An evasive glance met his earnest concern. "Of course. Thanks. But it's nothing, really." She got up and began putting away equipment. Carson watched her quick, sure movements, her professional mask now fixed firmly back in place. There was definitely trouble brewing, and he'd be here, ready, when either party chose to confide.

oOo

Leather straps held his arms to his waist, but the restraints might have been an ermine trimmed mantle, his bearing and haughty sneer projecting a lofty disregard for small human concerns.

"Ma'am?" The Marine Sergeant looked at her questioningly. "Is Dr Beckett here?"

The Wraith, gaze fixed far above Jennifer's head, let out a long impatient breath through flared nostrils.

"No, he's busy right now. But that's okay! I can manage!" She smiled brightly, but the Marine and his colleague stuck close to their prisoner. "We'll just be over here at the scanner, so you can just wait over there, thank you!" She gestured at the door.

The sergeant gave a wary nod. "We'll be watching, Ma'am."

Jennifer glanced awkwardly up at her patient's pale face, and then across to the Ancient scanner. "So, okay then, if you could just, you know, follow me!" She crossed the room, switched the scanner on, and turned to find the Wraith close up into her space, almost touching her. Two weapons clicked their readiness and Todd took a step back, hissing softly in the back of his throat. She raised her eyes to meet his cold, impersonal gaze, and was once again struck by the strangeness of his scent. Her human patients, whether freshly showered check-ups or sweat and blood-stained emergencies, all had a familiarity which only became apparent when confronted with the humanoid and yet alien form of a Wraith. His scent was more an absence than a presence, and she guessed that where humans exuded the essential building blocks of their diet, Wraith physiology resulted in no such secretions. Jennifer wondered about pheromones, as his eyes ran slowly down her body and returned, equally slowly, one eyebrow raised, to her face; she felt her skin heat.

"Shall we proceed, Jennifer Keller?"

She swallowed. Why had she ever told him her first name? And why did she always find herself reacting to him, when, outside of his presence, she promised herself that she wouldn't, didn't, couldn't ever feel _that_ way about a Wraith!

"It's McKay, now!" She had told him before, several times.

"Of course."

She cleared her throat and attempted to pull on a cloak of professionalism. "Dr Beckett and I thought we could try a different approach? Come at the problem another way?" Her voice was weak, her directions phrased as questions; she didn't need his permission. His unblinking eyes unnerved her, his fingers moving slightly. What thoughts were flickering behind that impassive countenance? "We know you can eat, so we're going to observe whether the mechanical processes for digestion still work; peristalsis and so on. So, if you can just lie down and er... eat this sandwich..." Her feigned confidence faded away.

"You will observe food passing through my system?"

She nodded. "Yes, if you could just..."

"Lie down. How distasteful. Nevertheless, see how willingly I comply?"

He sat, and then lay full-length on the scanner table the movement fluid and graceful despite his bound hands. He watched her, yellow-green eyes unblinking.

"Oh, sorry, you can't..." Jennifer picked up the sandwich and held it to his mouth. "Can you eat it like that or do you need to sit?"

He bared his pointed teeth and she couldn't help but look away; the sandwich jerked and pulled. She looked back as he swallowed and scowled.

"No more!"

Jennifer dropped the sandwich back on the plate, trying to ignore the torn, jagged edge of the bread. "That should be enough. Yes, there it goes, down the oesophagus. Peristalsis A-okay!" Her own false cheer grated on Jennifer's nerves, but she couldn't seem to stop. She felt a wave of heat rising from her stomach; shame, embarrassment, something else? Todd's eyes were closed. She glanced at the Marines; their cool, professional alertness was for their prisoner, not for her. And yet it was as if she were the subject under scrutiny, her every thought and impulse exposed for dissection. She shivered.

"And into the stomach! Lower esophageal and pyloric sphincters doing their stuff!"

Todd sighed, deeply, as if bored. Jennifer watch the rise and fall of his chest in its casing of black leather. Further down, his long coat fell in supple folds from the edge of the table.

"Will you renew your pledge tonight, Jennifer Keller?" His words drifted like a throaty sigh, his eyes remaining closed. Had he spoken aloud, or into her mind?

"Yes, of course! I mean, how do you know about the festival?"

The eyes opened and blinked, their cool predatory gaze fixing her own. Jennifer felt her face heat once more.

"You told me."

"I did?" She swallowed. "I did." She couldn't look away. His gaze stripped her soul, laying bare her hidden thoughts, dreams, desires. Her head tipped back, her eyelids drooped, she breathed in sharply.

"Ah, peristaltic action in the stomach, I see!" Carson's voice jerked Jennifer back to reality. "Looks like there's some liquid in there; maybe some enzyme secretion occurring. We'll need a sample!"

Todd growled a soft warning.

"It's a simple procedure." Carson studied the scanner screen. "No time like the present! I'll sort out the kit!" He bustled to one of the store cupboards, and disappeared inside.

Todd's eyes were closed again.

"It surprised me, that he chose you, in the end." The words were a soft murmur that barely reached her ears.

"Sorry, what?"

"That he would choose you, when he had so long desired another. Desired, and perhaps tasted."

"Desired? What? You mean Rodney?"

He hissed his sibilant laugh and dark slits glittered beneath pale lashes.

"So often together, those two. The soldier and the scientist: both warriors in their own way."

Jennifer shivered, her throat suddenly tight and aching.

"No, they weren't... they aren't..."

"Weren't they? Aren't they? Ah, perhaps not. A _wife_ should know, after all." His eyes closed, he shifted on the scanner table, and breathed deeply, as if about to sleep.

"Here we are!" Carson rolled up a trolley of equipment and began snapping on a pair of gloves. He paused, his soft eyes concerned. "Are you alright, lass? You're looking a wee bit peaky!"

"I..." She cleared her throat. "I have a headache. Can I...?"

"Yes, of course! Off you go and lie down for a bit. Just send one of the nurses my way and we'll manage!"

Jennifer forced a smile and walked quickly away on nerveless legs, her arms folded to hide her trembling hands.

oOo

It had never been the same since the Genii had shot it up, the morons; and why Helia and her crew hadn't sorted it out properly, when he'd specifically mentioned it... Anyways, Rodney needed distance. Distance and space and peace and fresh air and all that kind of thing, so that he could just think. Or not think. Not thinking at the moment seemed like a good plan, and the messed-up, snarled-up, patched-over-and-forgotten-about grounding station console went a long way toward occupying his brain, so that certain parts of it just gave up and went on standby, a dull buzz on the far periphery of his consciousness that, with focussed and deliberate evasion, he could ignore.

Damn those Ancients! What the hell had they done with this thing? Rodney's knees ached. he prodded the spaghetti strands angrily with his probe, annoyed at their smugly blinking white lights that gave the impression of perfect working order and yet leaked power like cannoli leaked cream.

Maybe the problem was elsewhere. He reattached the panel and moved around to the side of the pedestal, prized off another panel and regarded the contents with a sharp, diagnostic eye. He attached probes to various spots and began to analyse the readout on his datapad. A quick tap of hurried footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Rodney huffed with annoyance. What did an intergalactically renowned superscientist have to do to get some peace? He stayed in a crouch and moved to the ocean side of the pedestal. Maybe they'd walk on by? No dammit, on they came, out into his space. Some stray minion or Marine; he would see them off with a few choice words!

A gusty sigh was followed by, "Oh, Rodney!"

He froze. Jennifer?

"Rodney! How could I? How could you?"

He should speak. He should stand up and talk to her; sort this out. But what if she stonewalled him again? Maybe he'd learn more by not speaking. Then he could do the awkward, adult talking thing later; to better effect, he convinced himself. She was moving. He shuffled around the pedestal, the rush and slap of the waves beyond the lower part of the balcony muffling his movements. Jennifer leant against the railing and stared down into the ocean. She mumbled something. Why couldn't she speak up? She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Oh. This was wrong. He wanted to comfort her. Of course he wanted to comfort her; he loved her didn't he? Yes, obviously, he loved her! He just didn't understand her.

"Why him?" She cried out to the unhearing waves. "How could I feel that way? Rodney, I'm so sorry!" Her head drooped, her shoulders shook.

Sorry? Him? What? Names, please! Then he'd know who to punch!

"And I don't believe it!" Her voice throbbed now with anger. "It's not true and I don't believe it! They're just friends!"

What? Don't believe what? What've I done? A full report, now! Bullet points! Diagrams! Jennifer sank down and wrapped her arms around her bent knees, her golden hair spilling out of its ponytail and flapping here and there in the fitful sea breeze. His arms should be around hers, enfolding her, sheltering her, fixing her inner turmoil, never mind the stupid grounding station. Although... 'How could I?' What had she done?

"Jennifer?"

Crap! Ronon! What was with everyone today? Surely it was too much of a coincidence to find them both here. But Ronon and Jennifer wouldn't be meeting in secret - would they? They did have history, after all.

She looked up, wiped her face on her sleeve and stood, dragging on a smile. One of the things he loved about her, that smile, in the face of fear or doubt. His stomach lurched.

"Ronon. Um... I was just..." She faltered. Rodney could only see Ronon's back, but knew an eyebrow was raised. His teammate moved toward his wife, relaxed, with loose, panther-like grace in his long limbs. But she had chosen Rodney! Him! Not this young, hot, dangerous... Ronon's long, lean, bronzed arms reached out and enfolded her. Sickened, Rodney turned away, unable to watch, focussing on the intense pain in his knuckles, as he bit his own clenched fist. Ronon was just comforting her, one friend to another, surely? Murmured words drifted to his ears, too low to pick out meaning. Confidences, comfort maybe. Ronon wouldn't do 'sweet nothings' anyways, would he? Rodney dared himself to look. They still held each other, but she had pulled away and he could see her face, her eyes looking directly into Ronon's.

"Can you say honestly that they're not?" Her words were clear and firm. "That you've never once wondered?"

Ronon mumbled and shrugged.

"All those 'movie nights'?"

Air quotes now? What the hell?

"All those looks? All those touches? It probably started years ago! Probably as soon as he sat in that damn chair and it all lit up!" She wiped her face again, but Rodney no longer felt the desire to go to her. She suspected him and Sheppard? Him and his best friend? Because, yes, even he knew that the whole wife-best friend triangle could be an issue, but seriously?

Ronon was holding her again. Rodney seethed, silently. Of course he was close to John; they 'got' each other. They had from the start, mostly, apart from the whole Doranda incident. And there were the multiple life-savings; all the times when they thought the other dead or doomed, and then, wow, the relief when John was safe! And sure, John was totally, unrealistically attractive; anyone with even the bare minimum of intelligence knew that! So, yes, maybe in an alternate universe. But not this one! Rodney had married her, hadn't he? Said the words, made the vows? And to his logical mind, that was it: box ticked, job done. What else did she want, blood?

"What the hell? Ronon?"

Amelia. Rodney cringed.

"Way to break up with me, asshole!"

The direct approach; maybe he should have tried that.

"No, you've got it wrong!" Ronon smiled. He actually smiled. Hell hath no fury like a kickboxing Gate tech scorned. Ronon blocked the punch to his face, but her boot connected firmly with his ribs and he fell.

"No! Amelia, please!" Jennifer waved pacifying hands, but backed away. Ronon breathed through his teeth and tried to get up, but Amelia's kick to his shoulder felled him again.

"Stay down, where you belong!". She turned with a scornful glare at Jennifer and marched away.

"Amelia! Amelia, wait!"

He ran after her.

Jennifer hugged her arms around her body. She sniffed and wiped her eyes angrily. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Was she berating herself? Ronon? She took a deep breath, her eyes closed tight and lips pursed, then shook on her mantle of medical authority, stepped up and around the pedestal and disappeared into the interior of the city.

Rodney slumped on the ground. He had been so sure she loved him; so sure, so confident, so secure, so deluded. Maybe it was because she was so much younger; she'd just changed her mind, or didn't know her own mind, or was just as confused as he was. But he knew he loved her; he wasn't that confused. And he'd tell her. Tonight, at the pledging, he'd tell her in front of everyone; renew vows that he had made, so that she would know that she was his love, his only love, and he gave her his life. He'd lay his heart out before her for all to see; the heart of Meredith Rodney McKay on a platter. Could she reject him?

oOo

Far below, sharp teeth glinted in the dim light and a soft hiss of satisfaction broke the solitary silence. He had not the abilities of a queen, and yet, down the long years of his life, through the slow turn of the galaxy, through the lives and deaths of countless humans, his mind had grown powerful; powerful and manipulative, dangerous and clever. It was a subtle device, however, not a blunt instrument of immediate gratification through violence and pain, but a fine tool for the gradual manoeuvring of human thought and emotion, a tool refined by ancient wisdom and convoluted wit. A touch here, a suggestion there, a nurturing of faint suspicion to grow toward a harvest of plot and counterplot. These humans, these little lives; almost he wished success to the two doctors, so that he could forever play this fascinating game, setting one against another, dividing and uniting as he saw fit.

_"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,_  
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend  
More than cool reason ever comprehends." 

He laughed once more and returned to his reading.


	2. Act II

Torren whimpered and tangled his hands in Teyla's hair.

"Yes, I know it hurts, little one." She held him a little tighter and stroked a soothing hand over his back as she walked toward the infirmary. "Dr Beckett will know what to do."

"Pop!"

"We will see. You know that lollipops are not good for you!"

"Pop!" Torren yelled, insistently, close to her ear, which was painful, yet reassuring. He'd run straight into the side of the Jumper with such a dreadful thud. And then had come the pause of shock, and an impossibly long, in-drawn breath before the heart-rending wails had begun.

"Nearly there!" She kissed his soft hair and continued round the curve of the corridor.

"Suck it up, Dex! You don't get an opinion!" Amelia, hands on hips, stood squarely, watching Ronon struggle with a huge crate.

"Told you, 'melia!" Ronon strained, teeth gritted, the tendons in his neck standing out. "Nothin' goin' on! She was just... upset!" He lowered the crate to the ground and leant on it, breathing hard.

"Amelia. Ronon." Teyla hesitated. "Is all well?"

Ronon raised his head briefly and flapped a hand.

"Everything's fine. Just fine." Amelia smiled, tightly. "And it'll be even more fine after Specialist Dex, here, completes a few little jobs for me!"

"I will not interrupt further, then." Teyla caught Ronon's eye-roll as she moved away. Unfortunately, so did Amelia. There was a resounding smack.

"None of that! Pick up the crate! And when you're done, you're trading for some of Bianchi's Mom's pasta sauce and making me lunch!"

Ronon mumbled. 

"I don't care what you trade! How about one of your knives?"

Amelia's strident tones faded as Teyla entered the infirmary.

"Teyla! What can I do for you?"

"Carson." Teyla smiled, pleased to see the doctor's welcoming face. "Torren has hit his head. I think it is nothing, but I would be grateful if you could examine him."

"Of course. Why don't you sit up here?" He patted one of the beds. "Probably best if you hold on to him. We don't want any escape attempts, do we?"

"Pop!"

"Torren!"

Carson laughed. "Don't worry, love. Interest in lollipops is always a good sign!" Carson questioned her about Torren's injury and behaviour and seemed satisfied with her answers. "Let's just put something cold on that nasty bump, shall we? And I'll see what else I can find!"

"Bump!" said Torren.

Carson came back with a cold pack and a lollipop.

"All set for the festival?" He unwrapped the lollipop and gave it to Torren.

"There are still some things to transport." Teyla held the cold pack to Torren's forehead. "Kanaan has gone to help unload a Jumper and will return to collect a generator. We have some small coloured lights to hang in the trees, which will require power."

"Fairy lights! Lovely!"

Teyla checked beneath the ice pack. The swelling seemed to be going down. "Carson, do you know what has occurred between Ronon and Amelia? She seems very angry with him!"

"Well, I don't know exactly, but I was under the impression that maybe she'd caught him making eyes at another woman."

"I cannot believe that of Ronon!"

Carson shrugged. "He's a red-blooded young man. Eyes can wander even in solid relationships." He twisted the lollipop wrapper between his fingers. "I suppose you've no worries on that score."

"Kanaan is very loyal. And he is a devoted father."

"Aye, he is that."

Carson's normal sincerity was clouded, as if he did not quite believe his own words.

"We are very happy together. Our trials at the hands of Michael, and of course, having Torren, have made us very close." Why did she feel the need to justify her relationship to him?

"We've all been through a lot over the years, and not just at Michael's hands," said Carson, softly. The lollipop wrapper rustled again. "We've all grown close; especially those of us who've faced all kinds of danger as a team so many times."

"My team is very important to me," Teyla agreed. Carson's manner was unusually hesitant; what was he really trying to say?

"You'll be joining in tonight, at the pledging?"

"We will." What promise would she make to Kanaan? Or he to her? Would he pledge to her for life? Offer marriage?

"And Rodney and Jennifer, Ronon and Amelia, unless he's still in the doghouse." He paused. "I wonder if the Colonel will go, not having anyone to share his feelings for. Not that he would share them anyway."

He wound his words around the subject, but now they had arrived at the target, and Teyla found herself wanting to spoil his aim.

He continued. "I mean, he's had his casual encounters over the years, but if there was anything serious I daresay it would be down to the other party to make the first move."

"Carson, I have been meaning to talk to you about Todd."

"Todd? Really? Why's that?" Carson looked taken aback at the change of subject.

"I find his presence disturbing, as you know."

"Aye, I know, and I'm sorry about that, lass. I've got him back there right now, as it happens." He gestured behind him.

"Under guard, I hope?" Teyla held the squirming Torren close to her breast, both arms curling around his vulnerable form.

"Guarded, yes, and extra restraints, just in case. I thought you managed to tune him out, though, usually?"

"Yes, but I have lately found my awareness of him increasing. As if he is somehow creeping into my consciousness."

"Have you mentioned this to Mr Woolsey? Or to the Colonel?"

Teyla shook her head. "Perhaps I am mistaken."

"Oh no, I'm not going to dismiss your concerns, lass. I'm sure you know what you're talking about. We'll set up a meeting tomorrow, how about that?"

She smiled. "Thank you, Carson. We must be going now. Kanaan may have returned already."

"Off you go, then. And enjoy the festival."

Teyla smiled, set Torren down, and let him toddle beside her, his hand in hers. It was ridiculous, really, the hint-dropping, the speculation. She was with Kanaan; they had a son together. And she and John were teammates, close friends, nothing more. He'd kissed her once, of course, when he was under the influence of the iratus bug DNA, although why would turning into a human-insect hybrid have that effect? Anyway, he had apologised later, and made it quite clear that his intentions did not lie in that direction. Of course, John was not noted for his ability to put his feelings accurately into words. But surely, after all this time, if he had felt something more than friendship for her, even he would have spoken. What would have been her reply?

"Pop?"

Torren held up the lollipop stick.

"It is all gone, Torren! No more now, or you will not eat your lunch! Come, perhaps your father has returned!"

oOo

"Hey, Carson, making progress?"

"Colonel!" The doctor looked up from his monitors. His tired eyes held a gleam of excitement. "You know, I think we are!"

John, leaning against the doorframe, looked over his shoulder at the Wraith lying on the scanner. He moved further into Carson's office. "He giving you any trouble?"

"No, no!" Carson laughed. "He's very well-behaved as Wraith go!"

John didn't share the doctor's amusement. "Don't let him fool you, Carson! He's a killer! You know that, don't you?"

"I know that, John, yes." Carson looked earnestly into his eyes.

"Okay, well, what've you got?" He leant over the doctor and peered at the monitors, making no sense of the readouts.

"We've discovered that all the mechanical processes for the digestion of food are in place: ingestion, obviously, then propulsion, that's where the food is moved through the body, mechanical digestion, where the movements of the alimentary canal break up the food, and defecation, where..."

"Yeah, thanks, I know that one! And I won't ask how you verified that fact!"

"No, Todd wasn't particularly pleased with that area of study." Carson squirmed uneasily. "Anyway, it's the chemical digestion and absorption that are missing. So, I'm thinking along the lines of either stimulating the organs which would normally excrete digestive enzymes, or just introducing some artificially produced enzyme and studying the effect. The absorption part might be more of a challenge." Carson rubbed his hands together and grinned.

"Nice," said John, not appreciating the images of Wraith digestion that now lingered in his head. "You're going to put away your Wraithy toy soon, though, right? You look like you could use a break."

"Oh, the festival. Yes, I'm coming. It sounds like it'll be lovely! A feast and fairy lights!"

John smiled half-heartedly.

"You're going, aren't you Colonel? I'm sure you could use a break too."

"Yeah, I guess."

"John?"

"It's just... don't you think it might be kinda... tough? You know, everyone all pairing off, doe-eyed, and us..."

"Left on the shelf like two cracked Toby jugs?"

"Toby what-nows?"

"Jugs! Like a chubby wee man with a tricorne hat?"

John shook his head. This was a good example of why he didn't talk about emotional crap. Conversations just got awkward or confusing, or he ended up talking about... well, no, the jug thing had never come up before.

"I'm sorry, John, I'm not mocking you!" Carson put out a hand, but then withdrew it. "You're right. It might be hard. But, you know, I'm just thankful to be here, alive, and maybe one day I'll find someone special and maybe I won't."

"Yeah. Anyways, I'd better..." John jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate important business.

"Don't give up!"

"What?"

Carson's cheeks flushed and he looked away, pretending to return to his read-outs. He glanced at John, sidelong. "I'm sure there's someone special for you. Maybe you just need to be in the right place at the right time?"

John felt a painful twisting in his gut. He shook his head. "Yeah, that's... that's not going to happen." He turned and marched smartly out, ignoring a sudden twinge in one knee as well as Todd's dagger-like smirk.

oOo

Rodney raised his face into the shower stream and let the water wash all the soap away. He hadn't shaved earlier, leaving it late so that he could be as smooth and presentable as possible for the evening; no matter what the outcome of the evening might be. Positive thinking, he reminded himself. _Faint heart never won fair lady_ , and so on; although, he'd thought the winning was already done. He waved his hand over the shower controls and the water stopped. He could hear movement from the bedroom.

"Jennifer?"

"No, it's me." 

John. Rodney dried himself off and wrapped a towel round his waist. He stuck his head out of the bathroom. "I'm just..."

"Making yourself beautiful?"

"Ha ha. I was going for presentable."

"Don't let me stop you." John fiddled with his thigh holster and shifted awkwardly, his weight all on one leg. Rodney waited. "Oh, er... I was just thinking about maybe not going and, er, cos I said I'd take you two in the Jumper, so..."

"Why not?"

"Well..." John shuffled, bit his lip, balancing oddly on one leg again. "You know, this thing's for couples, and I don't have, er..." He did his neck-rubbing thing and avoided Rodney's eyes.

"Is there something wrong with your leg?"

John smirked, sheepishly. "My knee. Pushed a bit too hard this morning. It was fine until just now."

"You shouldn't try to keep up with Ronon."

"Hey, I can keep up with Ronon! Sometimes."

"Look, sit. In fact, there's an ice pack in the freezer, so get that, then sit, and we can talk about why you're such an idiot."

John's hurt expression had no effect.

"Just do it, Sheppard." Rodney left him to it. He cleared the steam off the bathroom mirror and looked at his reflection. His sister's words rang in his ears: "You're no John Sheppard!" He stuck his tongue out at the memory. Anyways, he was the married one and John was still on his own, so his looks hadn't done him any favours in the end. Although, at the moment, marriage seemed a minefield of misunderstandings. The crunch of an ice pack and a grateful sigh reminded him of his friend's presence. Rodney began to shave and John's voice wasn't loud enough to compete with the buzz of the shaver.

"What?" He yelled round his facial contortions.

"You think I should go then?"

"Yes, of course. What, you were thinking of letting Lorne go after all?"

"Yeah."

"He had leave last month, didn't he? And he went to that harvest thing on M7G-677. You need the break more than he does!"

An indistinct mumble. He shut off the shaver.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Rodney raised a sceptical eyebrow at himself in the mirror. It was possible he could do more harm than good by interfering; the harm quotient had, after all, outweighed the good on several notable occasions in the past, on a literally astronomical scale. However, a mopey teamleader was bound to be less effective, and so it was his duty to give a bit of a push, or a shove, in the right direction.

"Look, just go! Eat, drink, and maybe the Kirk routine will kick in. There's bound to be some cute Athosian chick who'll be more than happy to pledge herself to you for a night." He left a significant pause. "If that's what you're after."

There was silence. Rodney, shaver still in his hand, put his head round the bathroom door, whereupon any sage advice forming in his head evaporated instantly in the face of the disastrous collision of two facts. Firstly, that John, sans pants, t-shirt riding up, boxers riding a little too far down, reclined against a bank of pillows amid Rodney's rumpled bed - his rumpled marital bed - the ice-pack on his knee an extremely dubious excuse for his debauched appearance, and secondly, galvanisingly, that his horrified senses detected the swish of the outer door and Jennifer's careworn sigh.

"Rodney?"

He closed and locked the bedroom door, muffling Jennifer's enquiries.

"Hide! You have to hide!"

"'s up, McKay?" John drawled, infuriatingly.

"She can't find you here!" he hissed. "Hide, quick!" He pulled at John's arm, to no effect.

"What the hell, McKay?"

"Ssh! She'll hear you!"

"Rodney? Let me in!"

"Oh, yes!" he called, tugging at John's arm. "Just a moment, dear!"

"What's going on, Rodney?" John's mouth was grim, his eyes a narrowed mix of confusion and darkness.

"She thinks... She thinks you and me...! Look, just move! Please!"

"Rodney, come on, let me in!"

"She thinks you and me what?" John moved as far as the edge of the bed, the ice pack sliding off his knee.

"She thinks we have a _thing!_ You know?"

"Oh, really?" So much sneer packed into a whisper. "Well, maybe she could've checked that out _before_ she married you!"

"John, please!" Rodney pulled him up, and thrust his pants at him. "The balcony!"

"Rodney!" Jennifer's voice, sharp and angry was followed by a flurry of pounding. "Now!"

Rodney slid the balcony door shut on his friend and pulled the drapes across. He released the door lock, cringing inwardly, feeling guilt radiating from him in waves, even though he had nothing to feel guilty for.

"Rodney, that wasn't very nice, locking me out! What were you doing?"

"Oh, I didn't realise it was locked and I was in the shower, so..."

"I heard voices! I'm sure you were talking to someone!"

"Just my earpiece! You know, Zelenka can't be left alone for five minutes!"

Jennifer folded her arms. "You don't have your earpiece in, Rodney."

"I did! It's... it's here somewhere!" He looked around the room. Boots: John's boots, sticking out from under the bed.

"What's this?" She held up the ice-pack.

He snatched it from her hand and applied it to his forehead. "I have a headache! That's why I pulled the curtains!" he improvised.

"You were having a shower, and talking on the radio, and lying down in a darkened room." The arms were folded, forbiddingly again. "Which is it, Rodney?"

"Um..." He shuffled backward, feeling for the boots with his feet, pushing them further under the bed.

She deflated suddenly, the fight dropping from her shoulders, the tips of her fingers pressed to her forehead. In a small voice, she said, "Do you have someone in here, Rodney? Is there someone in the bathroom?"

"No! No, of course not! I would never..."

"The balcony, then." She took a step forward, but he moved into her path. "Rodney, move."

"No." He'd try for righteous indignation: his arms now folded themselves defensively, his chin tipping up. "I don't know how you can think such a thing! I would never betray you!"

The light was dim, but her blush was unmistakable. Nevertheless, she persisted. "Let me past, Rodney!"

Face-to-face, he could see the worry in her shadowed eyes. This wasn't the life he had imagined for them; suspicion and deceit. He stood aside and waved her to the balcony. If their marriage couldn't survive John's presence, what was the point? The hurt resignation in her glance as she passed him tore at his heart. She pulled aside the drapes.

Ronon stood on the balcony.

Jennifer slid the glass door open.

"Ronon?"

"Ronon!" Rodney looked back into the bedroom and then at his teammate.

"Uh, hey, Jennifer."

Jennifer turned back into the room and sat down on the bed. "Rodney, please explain!"

That would be a struggle! How and why did John turn into Ronon? And anyways, she had blushed when he'd mentioned betrayal. And he'd heard her say 'How could I?' out by the grounding station. And she was distant, but denied that there was anything wrong. And _she_ suspected _him?_

"Well, I'm not sure why I should!" He brazened it out for all he was worth. "Ronon just came by for..."

"Some dating advice!" interrupted Ronon. "I'm in trouble with Amelia."

"And, then, just because I'd locked the door by accident you start yelling like I've got a secret lover under the bed!" He gave the boots an extra shove. "So, I thought, let's see how much faith you have in me, and it turns out, none!"

"You were testing me?" Her voice was quiet and dangerous.

"How else am I meant to find out what's going on with you? You won't talk to me!"

"Rodney, I..."

"Rodney? Jennifer?" Teyla's worried voice came from the living area.

"In here!" shouted Rodney, dryly. "The more the merrier! Come one, come all!"

Teyla, with Torren in her arms and Kanaan trailing behind, entered the bedroom.

"Rodney, Jennifer!" She smiled. "Ronon?"

"Hey, Teyla."

"You are alright! We were concerned!"

"We're all fine," said Rodney, grumpily. "Peachy, in fact."

"That is a relief! Kanaan saw somebody climbing down from your balcony, so we thought you had become trapped somehow!"

"Climbing _down_ from the balcony?" Jennifer slowly turned to impale Rodney with a baleful glare.

"Uh, yeah, that was me," said Ronon, casually. "I was out on the balcony and, uh..." He shrugged. "Just fancied climbing."

The excuse would have sounded ridiculous on anyone else's lips, but from Ronon, it was perfectly plausible.

"But they fell!" Kanaan protested. "I'm sure I saw them fall! And I don't think it looked like..."

"Ronon, are you hurt?" Teyla interrupted. Her eyes flickered to Rodney's, and long, incident-packed years on the same team conveyed concern for John (no fooling Teyla), and the desire for an explanation at his earliest convenience.

Ronon shrugged and rubbed a shoulder vaguely. "I'm fine. Just need my boots, then I'll go. Should be making Amelia's lunch."

He looked about the floor. Rodney obligingly hauled John's boots out from beneath the bed and Ronon put them on, his face impressively deadpan, considering they must pinch. Situation resolved.

A distant commotion crescendoed into a furious tirade, which made its way through the lounge and, inevitably, toward the already crowded bedroom. Rodney rolled his eyes and suppressed a hysterical laugh.

"Where is he? Ronon! I know you're here!"

Amelia surged through the door, fists clenched, teeth bared in vengeful wrath.

"Amelia, come in!" Rodney graciously bowed her into the room, one hand clutching the towel around his waist, because the scene, he thought, would not be improved by his nudity.

"I saw you!" Not deterred by the assembled crowd, her vibrating finger accused her lover. "Climbing up to _her_ balcony!"

"My balcony too!" said Rodney. "And I can't really see Ronon as an Atlantean Romeo, can you?" Somebody snickered. Rodney suspected Teyla, but her face was impassive.

"Why? Why were you climbing?"

Ronon seemed to shrink. "Just fancied climbing?" he tried.

"We've covered all this!" Rodney interrupted. "The facts are as follows: Ronon came to me for the benefit of my wisdom concerning relationships! And while he was here, a sojourn on the balcony occurred, during which, as Ronon says, he 'fancied climbing'! Is that so hard to believe?"

There was some shuffling and guarded looks. Torren giggled.

"Yes!"

"Kanaan, it is time for us to..."

"No, Teyla! No! I know what I saw, and that was not Ronon climbing down, it was..."

"Colonel Sheppard!"

John stood in the doorway, Carson peering tentatively over his shoulder. He looked okay, but was wearing his uniform shirt with the sleeves pulled down, which was unusual in itself, and Rodney's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of white at one wrist.

"Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?"

"Please, come in!" Rodney gestured expansively, nearly losing his grip on his towel. "Clichéd wit is always welcome here!"

"I saw you!" Kanaan would not be deterred.

"Right here!" John chirped, with an irritating smirk. He was obviously enjoying this.

"No, I saw you climb down from Dr McKay's balcony!"

John looked at Rodney and then his eyes drifted round the room, resting briefly on Ronon, Jennifer, Amelia, Teyla, bestowing a more genuine smile on Torren and then working up an expression of injured innocence for Kanaan. "Maybe Beckett here should check out your eyes next. He's spent a while scanning and fussing over my knee just now. Not sure how I could've climbed out a window." He winced, theatrically. "What d'you think, Carson? Any climbing for me today?"

Carson laughed, nervously. "Oh, I'd say not, Colonel! It wouldn't be safe at all!"

"He was with you? For how long?"

"Oh, I don't know." Carson was obviously not comfortable with a blatant lie.

"About an hour?" John encouraged.

"Aye, maybe."

"All is well, then!" Teyla forcibly pinned the assembly with her best diplomatic smile. "It is as Rodney explained and we can all return to our tasks! Kanaan!" She left, but Rodney didn't miss Kanaan's departing look of disbelief.

"Aye, back to the grindstone! Although, perhaps it's time for a spot of lunch. Colonel?"

"Just what I was thinking, Carson!"

"Yeah, c'mon Amelia."

Exeunt. Rodney slowly revolved to face his wife. Her cheeks were pale, eyes moving back and forth, brows contracted in confusion. He took a breath, but she held up a preventive hand.

"No. I think... I think I need some time to myself, Rodney." She spoke softly, without looking up. "Get dressed and go have lunch. I'll take a shower, straighten the room up a bit."

Rodney looked around at the scattered clothes, scientific journals and coffee cups.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"It doesn't matter," Jennifer interrupted. She looked up and gave him a pathetic little smile. "Go on, Rodney. I'll be fine."

oOo

He had gone. It was quiet. Jennifer drifted about, the gentle activity restoring order to the turmoil of her mind and the room both. She deliberately took long, slow breaths, stretched out the tight muscles in her neck and relaxed her jaw. Their love had seemed so steady, so true; built gradually on the firm foundations of mutual knowledge and shared experience. With half her mind she knew her feelings were still the same; the safety, the protection, the humour, as well as the sharp, incisive intellect that made her husband sometimes difficult to live with, but that often delighted and amazed. But, alongside that knowledge was a looming shadow of doubt and mistrust; doubt of both Rodney and herself, mistrust of his feelings as well as her own. She had been happy; where had those happy moments gone?

Jennifer picked up Rodney's discarded jacket from the floor. It was heavier than it should be, a weight in one pocket distorting its shape. She slipped her hand into the pocket and drew out a small, metallic disc, half in silver half in blue, with a creepy red eye in the middle. It was that thing Rodney was working on, one of his many projects. What had he called it? A mimetic imaging device. Used by some aliens who took over the SGC, years ago now, Rodney had 'acquired' it on a visit to Area 51, whether legitimately or on the sly, Jennifer wasn't sure. He'd been trying to interface it with Ancient technology. Had he succeeded? Jennifer held her own gaze in the full-length mirror on the closet door. She held the device to her chest and pushed the button.

John Sheppard looked back at her, one hand-held to his chest. She ripped the device off.

oOo

One of the Marines yawned and a moment later, so did the other.

"Getting tired, lads? Won't be long now!" Carson turned to his subject, held by restraints to the infirmary bed. "Well, I think we'll see what happens overnight, shall we?"

"We shall indeed see," replied Todd, smiling genially. "And now, perhaps?" He regarded the Marines, an eyebrow raised. Both leant against the wall, weapons drooping.

"Ah, yes, of course!" Carson led the Marines to beds, tutting and clucking over their sagging forms. "You both need a decent night's sleep, don't you?" He set their P90s neatly on a trolley, put on their restraints and covered them with blankets. Then he began to unfasten the Wraith. "I expect you're looking forward to a bit of an outing!"

Todd smiled and nodded gently, and Carson thought he was a perfectly reasonable fellow, once you got to know him; almost companionable, really. "There'll be fairy lights, you know! And, if that nice little cocktail of enzymes I gave you does the trick, you'll even be able to have yourself a wee snack! Won't that be nice?"

"Perfect," hissed Todd.


	3. Act III

Ronon couldn't regret helping John, even though it had meant more trouble from Amelia. Jogging through the corridors of Atlantis, on his mission to track down ingredients for Amelia's lunch, he had seen a black spider-like shape crawling down the side of one of the towers. The spider had wobbled and fallen and Ronon, wondering what trouble John was in and why he hadn't asked his friend to participate, altered course to the balcony that, he hoped, had broken John's fall. He had arrived to find his teamleader cursing in pain and also cursing the fact that he'd left his boots behind in Rodney's room, no doubt to be discovered by his suspicious wife. Ronon had risen, quite literally, to the challenge, and it had been worth it for the priceless looks of confusion on the faces of his discoverers when Jennifer had swept aside the drapes.

Amelia was working an afternoon shift, so, having provided her with a pacifyingly large lunch, Ronon had some free time. He wasn't off the hook, not by any means, but if anything, Amelia's wrath had strengthened his resolve to make their relationship work. She was definitely the woman for him; she might kick his ass into the middle of next week occasionally, but he trusted her to know when he deserved it. And what would be the point of spending his life fighting the Wraith, if he didn't have anyone to fight for?

Ronon thought about his friends. Rodney had Jennifer; Teyla had Kanaan and Torren; John had no-one, which needed fixing. But first: Rodney and Jennifer. An idea occurred. Maybe not the best idea, but it was all he could come up with at short notice. Ronon wasted no time and was soon waiting outside the McKays' quarters listening to the fading chime.

The door slid open, and there was Jennifer, her hair damp and the scent of some kind of flowery stuff coming off her in waves.

"Ronon," she said, neutrally.

"Er, can I come in?"

He thought she was going to deny him, but she moved aside and gestured him into the lounge.

"Sorry. I mean, sorry not to be more welcoming. I'm just not at my best." She smiled half-heartedly and sat down on the couch, drawing her legs up beneath her.

Ronon sat too. "You still worried about Rodney? And John?"

"I don't know. Yes, I suppose I am. I really thought this morning, because Rodney looked so guilty, I really thought there must be something going on."

"There isn't."

"I know that now. It was just you, and, by the way, that was really dangerous! You should find somewhere safer to climb!"

"Huh, yeah, I should. But that's not what I meant."

"What, then?"

"I shoulda said before, so, sorry 'bout that."

"You should've said what?"

Ronon took a deep breath. "You don't have to worry about Rodney and John, because I'm with him. John. Me 'n' him. We're together."

Jennifer's face froze. Her jaw dropped and her mouth tried to shape various words, but apparently rejected them all. "Oh," she managed, finally. "Oh, that's, um, unexpected. That's... er... good, for you. I mean, good for you! Both! But," she faltered, "what about Amelia?"

"Uh, yeah, so Sheppard wants to keep it secret, you know, even though it's meant to be okay now in the military. So..." Amelia would kill him. Kill him with one kick. "She's, like, a cover?"

"Oh! Oh, but that's... Poor Amelia!"

"Yeah, I feel pretty bad about that." No, it wouldn't be one kick, she'd kill him slow. It'd probably take days.

"Well, you should feel bad! You'll have to tell her! In fact you and the Colonel will just have to come out! It's not fair to string her along like that!"

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right!"

"I'll talk to John."

"You'd better!"

"But, you'll be okay now? You 'n' Rodney?"

"I... yes. I think so." She wasn't entirely convincing. "It's a lot to take in, you know?"

Ronon shrugged. He unfolded himself from the low couch. "That's all," he said. "Just thought you should know."

"Thank you for telling me, Ronon."

"See you later." He left, heading for the gym. His idea had been a good one; hadn't it? Jennifer had seemed a bit happier. He frowned, wondering if there might be consequences, then shook himself: gym, shower, meet Amelia, then off to the festival. What could go wrong?

oOo

The Gate room was quiet, but Amelia couldn't concentrate. she kept thinking back to that stupid scene in the McKays' quarters, and earlier, out by the grounding station. She'd been supposed to meet Ronon there, and she'd thought (and hoped) he'd chosen a remote meeting point because maybe he had something interesting planned. Then, there he was, all over Jennifer McKay, and, just when she was beginning to believe his excuse about comforting his friend's wife, there he was again, actually climbing up to her balcony. The whole thing didn't add up, or at least, it added up to a boatload of suspicion.

There were footsteps on the stairs behind her. Dr Beckett and, who was that? Amelia squinted and blinked, but somehow couldn't make out his escort. They disappeared up to the Jumper Bay, and after a few minutes, the Gate began dialling New Athos and a Jumper was descending. Trust Dr Beckett not to know the correct procedure. She tapped the comms.

"Control to Jumper Three. Dr Beckett, I don't seem to have a flight plan here for you."

"Oh, sorry, Amelia, love! I'm just heading to the festival."

"I should check with Colonel Sheppard."

"I'm sure it'll be fine! See you there!" The Jumper shot into the event horizon and the rippling puddle disintegrated.

Grumbling under her breath, Amelia tapped the comms again.

"Control to Colonel Sheppard."

"Amelia? Everything okay?"

"Dr Beckett's just taken a Jumper through to New Athos. He didn't file a flight plan."

A long-suffering sigh came over the comm link. "Did he take a Marine escort?"

"Yes. I didn't see who it was, though."

"Okay, thanks. I guess he can't come to too much harm."

Amelia returned to her work, but soon sat back in frustration. Woolsey wanted a report listing all the addresses where there was a verified Ancient facility of any type. He also wanted all trading contacts listed, and a schedule of when they'd last been contacted, and when their next contact was due. She was pretty sure he had all the trading info, and the other would mean trawling through all the mission reports; which was probably what he wanted her to do, but it was worth clarifying before embarking on such a tedious task. She got up and headed for the walkway, only to find Jennifer, datapad in hand, heading the same way.

"Amelia!" Jennifer's eyes widened, and then her face rearranged itself into an expression Amelia struggled to interpret. "Do you have a meeting with Mr Woolsey?"

"Nothing that can't wait," Amelia replied, gesturing for Jennifer to go ahead. 

The doctor's concerned gaze flickered towards Woolsey's office and then back. "Oh, no, I don't have an actual meeting. I mean, not an appointment!"

"That's okay. Please." Amelia gestured again and moved to return to his seat. Jennifer placed a hand on her arm.

"No, you were here first, you go ahead." Her voice was soft, her eyes kind; why the bedside manner?

Amelia looked pointedly at the hand on her arm, until it was withdrawn. "Please, I insist," she said firmly.

Still the doctor hesitated, her brows contracting from compassion, toward... was that pity? Amelia stepped further into Jennifer's space until the doctor gave way and they were both out of sight of Woolsey's office.

"Okay, Ke-, er... McKay! What gives?"

"Sorry? What? I don't know what you mean!" Jennifer's cheeks were flushed, her eyes fixed on the datapad clutched in her rigid fingers.

"I mean the sad eyes and pussyfooting around like I'm a patient that's not going to make it!"

"Oh! No! Really, I was just being polite. But if you really don't mind, I could just..." She moved to pass, but lightning-fast, Amelia shot out an iron-hard arm to prevent her.

"I want an honest answer, McKay! Is Ronan two-timing me?"

The wide, frightened eyes widened further, and Jennifer tried to make a break for the stairs. Kickboxing reflexes reacted to pen her in completely, and Amelia bent her elbows bringing her almost nose-to-nose with the quivering Jennifer.

"Have you two been carrying on behind my back?"

"No!" The answer shot out; a high, vehement denial. "No, we haven't! I haven't!"

Amelia leant in even further, glaring aggressively, feeling Jennifer's rapid breaths against her face.

"It's not me! I'm sorry!"

"What?"

"It isn't me! It's... it's Colonel Sheppard! I'm sorry!"

"The Colonel?" Amelia laughed, but then she saw the sincerity in Jennifer's expression, and her laughter faltered. "That's ridiculous! Why would you think that?"

"He told me. Ronon. He told me, and I'm sorry, but it's the truth!"

Amelia's arms dropped to her sides and she stepped back. "No. That's not possible."

"I told him it wasn't fair to you, using you like that!"

"Using me?"

"As a cover, to hide their relationship."

"Using me." Amelia sat down, heavily.

"I'm so sorry!" Jennifer said once more and fled, pattering away down the stairs. Running to her faithful husband for comfort, no doubt.

Amelia was dimly aware of a great sense of hurt. In an abstract way she thought she might be more emotionally hurt than she had ever been; the word 'heartbroken' might not be too strong. But, just for now, she felt numb, stunned. She stared blindly at the Ancient console, her mind running over the course of her relationship, searching for any kind of clue to this shocking betrayal, anything that she should have noticed, should have sensed. She could think of nothing; nothing before today had given her any cause to doubt Ronon. Simmering anger made its way up from the depths of her gut and wanted to emerge into a scream. Amelia ruthlessly brought her feelings under control. She had never taken any kind of hurt lying down, and she was not about to start now. Her task of analysing the Gate addresses entirely set aside, Amelia turned her skills to analysing her own situation and deciding on a suitable course of action. She was, after all, a scientist.

Her first option, obviously, was to injure Ronon physically as much as she'd been injured emotionally; a good plan, and one that would give her a great deal of satisfaction. Option two might be worse from Ronon's point of view, and would extend the punishment to the treacherous Colonel Sheppard without fear of any black mark on her own record: she could lay the whole situation before Teyla. Amelia smiled grimly at the thought of the rigorous and painful 'sparring session' that both would be forced to endure as the price for her betrayal. Option three, however, was more subtle, and also allowed for a reconciliation should Jennifer's information prove inaccurate: Amelia would pursue the Colonel herself. She knew he was attracted to women, as well as, apparently, men, and if she could get him alone tonight, alone in a romantically secluded forest glade, something would be sure to result. And the beauty of the plan was, that it would work either way. If Ronon and John really were together, then the sweet taste of revenge would be hers, and if they weren't, then it wouldn't hurt Ronon to suffer a few minutes jealousy. Option three it was then.

oOo

"Thank you, Jinto, Wex. I am sure that will be perfect."

The two young men jumped down from the tree where they had been draping strings of fairy lights among the branches.

"Can we help you with anything else, Teyla?"

"He means, can he go and find Haliya and ask if she will pledge with him tonight?"

"Wex!"

Teyla laughed. "That is all for now! Go!"

They ran off eagerly, and Teyla felt a huge sense of gratitude for the normality of the moment, and for the busy, happy preparations going on around her beneath the blue midsummer sky. Her people had been through so much, and now they had a new start and were building a new community, together with groups of refugees that had been rescued from culled planets.

Teyla shivered, despite the heat, and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of her neck, where her scalp was prickling. Her sense of well-being had dispersed, as if a cloud had obscured the sun. She turned in place. All appeared well; the flower-garlanded arch beneath which couples would pledge, the benches and tables for feasting, the dancing area, the scent of food being prepared. Yet still Teyla's senses itched with distant alarm and she needed, urgently, to be with her son. Kanaan was looking after him, but neither were in sight.

Teyla strode across the sun-bleached grass, searching the scene of activity for her little boy. Marines from Atlantis were helping, sweating in their dark uniforms while they unloaded supplies from a Jumper. They acknowledged her respectfully as she passed. There was another Jumper, towards the eaves of the forest. The hatch was open and, curiously, it seemed that somebody was asleep on one of the bench seats.

"Dr Beckett?"

The sleeping man twitched, his eyes opened, and he sat up, slowly, looking at her in confusion.

"Teyla?"

"Carson, I did not realise you were here."

"I don't think I did either." He swayed where he sat and put a hand to his head.

"Are you well, Carson?"

"Aye, well enough. A wee bit of a headache." He smiled. "I've never been comfortable, flying these things. Not sure why I decided to today." He looked pale and his hands trembled slightly.

"Come, Carson." Teyla took charge. "Halling's tent is close by. I will make you some tea and you can rest."

"That sounds good."

Teyla's sense of unease increased, and she scanned the deep shade beneath the trees as she guided Carson away from the Jumper. Why had he come, alone and unwell? She was glad to reach the shade of Halling's tent.

"Teyla and Dr Beckett! Welcome!"

"Mama! Amuls Mama!"

Halling sat on the floor, Torren in his lap, wooden animals scattered before them.

"Halling! I did not realise Torren was here! I am sure there must be many things you should be doing. I thought that Kanaan..."

Halling waved away her apology. "I am always glad of an opportunity to play with Torren. Kanaan had something to attend to and so I volunteered my services! Dr Beckett, please sit!" Halling cast Teyla a concerned glance as Carson sagged onto a bench.

"Dr Beckett is in need of some tea," said Teyla. "Do not stir, Halling. I will make it."

The peaceful familiarity of tea-making soothed Teyla's irritated nerves, but a faint shadow still lingered at the back of her mind. She left the leaves to steep, and sat down on the floor, picking up one of the wooden animals and making it climb up her son's arm. He giggled and stood up with an animal in each hand and ran them up and down her back, around her shoulders and up into her hair. Teyla smiled at Halling, but his returning smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He stood up and poured out the tea, his back to her, his posture unusually tense.

"Is something amiss, Halling?"

He passed a cup of tea to Carson, who inhaled the scented steam and took a tentative sip.

"Halling?"

Her old friend sat down on the bench opposite Carson and stared into his tea.

"Teyla, have you spoken to Kanaan about the pledging?"

She untangled an animal from her hair and gave it back to Torren. "We have not discussed the words we shall speak."

Halling took a sip of his tea.

Teyla rose and sat on the bench next to Carson, curling her cold hands around her own mug. She looked at Halling's wise, troubled face. "Halling, tell me what is in your mind and in your heart?"

He shook his head, gently. "Talk to Kanaan, Teyla. Drink your tea and then find him and talk to him. I will watch Torren."

Teyla drank her tea. She closed her eyes, distantly hearing Halling and Carson talking, their soft words blending with the sound of her son's play. Some few days were made for pure happiness, others for grief, and most for a myriad of small joys and small trials. She had not realised, as she had greeted the early-rising sun, that this would be a day of change; a watershed, which would divide the before and after, an old life from a new. She set down her empty cup and left the tent, but she did not need to talk to Kanaan. He stood at the edge of the forest, his hands entwined with another's and, even at a distance, Teyla could see the love they shared, bright and shining in their mutual gaze.

She turned away and went back to her son.

oOo

Jennifer tucked the datapad under her arm so that she could press her cold hands to her flaming cheeks. Justifying her medical supply order to Mr Woolsey could wait; there was no way she was running the gauntlet of Amelia's ire any time soon. Jennifer thought about claiming a headache and hiding in her room until the inevitable explosions had died down. But she wanted to renew her vows to Rodney at the pledging, proving her love to herself as well as him, and restaking her claim in public in case there was any doubt in anyone's mind. But would Rodney want to Gate to New Athos as a group? With the Colonel and Ronon and Amelia? They'd probably choke in the poisonous atmosphere, all of them together in a Jumper. She shuddered at the thought and resolved to find Rodney and suggest they walk through, just the two of them, as a couple.

Jennifer turned down the stairs to the science lab levels. There were voices below and she slowed down and listened. Ronon's deep rumble was countered by Colonel Sheppard's husky drawl. Jennifer rolled her eyes. She didn't want to meet them and turned to tiptoe back up the stairs. John's next words halted her.

"So, you 'n' Amelia. Are you good now?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's pretty mad, but I'll just let her beat me a coupla times. Get it out of her system."

John laughed. "What're you gonna say tonight? 'Yours forever, please don't hit me too hard'?"

"Somethin' like that."

"What? Ronon? Are you blushing?"

"Uh, I'm thinking of asking her to marry me."

A hearty thump was followed by, "Way to go, Chewie! Are you gonna ask her tonight?"

"Nah, she's still pissed. I'll wait 'n' make it special."

Jennifer's legs felt weak. She slid down to sit on the stairs. He had lied to her. Did that mean...?"

Ronon's rumble came again. "You should go for it. Tonight."

"Ah, no, I don't think so."

"You two should be together, John!"

There was a pause. Jennifer felt her heart increase to a rapid patter. She squeezed her wrist and her pulse fluttered beneath her fingers.

"I don't wanna hurt anyone. You know, their relationship's pretty solid."

"Uh-uh. Don't think so."

"What? Why?"

"Dunno... Just... Nobody could be that..."

"Boring?"

"I was gonna go with 'nice'. You're jealous."

"Maybe."

"Anyway, nobody could be that nice. Guilty conscience, there."

Jennifer's cheeks flamed. People could tell. They could see her guilt. There was no point trying to deny it, because people could tell. What if they found out why she felt guilty? That she was attracted to that monster? They'd probably lock her up! And they'd be right to!

"There's the team, though," John was saying. "I don't wanna mess that up."

"More than six years for you three, Sheppard. Nothing's gonna break that up. You've a right to a family, same as anyone else. It's what McKay wants."

Blinded by tears, Jennifer ran, back up the stairs. She flew to the nearby bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. She thought, for a few gasping, heaving moments, that she would throw up her lunch, but she forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply, and the nausea receded. She slid down the wall and sagged to the floor, dropping her head between her knees.

Rodney was hers! Her husband! How dare they talk about her marriage like it didn't matter, like it wasn't even a bump in the road on John Sheppard's route to yet another conquest! Rodney was hers and she loved him; she did, even through any other confusing, despicable feelings. And he loved her. She recalled their wedding day, the look in Rodney's eyes as he said the vows that would bind them together, the sincerity, the devotion in their blue depths.

Something was digging into her waist where her jacket was bunched up. She unzipped the jacket and smoothed it out, then reached into her pocket; it was the mimetic imaging device. Jennifer turned the disc in her hand, its silvered edge catching the light. For a moment she just gazed, unblinking, at the alien object, then her faltering, disordered mind began to pull together, and she sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of one hand. This little thing, this conjurer's trick of smoke and mirrors; she would use it and, once and for all, find out if Rodney's heart truly belonged to her.

oOo

It was a perfect night for couples, John thought sourly; the peach coloured sky, slowly fading to purple as the oppressive heat dispersed to lingering pleasant warmth, the garlanded arch beneath which longing looks and murmured words were shared, the secluded forest glades magically lit by twinkling lights. John scowled and tore some more meat off his barbecued rib of whatever. Where was Teyla, anyway? If he was going to have to witness her and Kanaan going all dewy-eyed beneath a lovers' moon (or two), he'd rather just get it over. 'Go for it,' Ronon had said, and 'You two should be together.' Well, the world, any world, didn't work that way; Rodney loved Jennifer, Ronon loved Amelia and Teyla loved Kanaan. And John was alone and would probably always be alone.

Usually, his feelings for Teyla stayed well stamped down, where they belonged; those feelings that had only broken out and made themselves known when she'd first told him she was pregnant. It was obvious then, when it was too late; obvious in the churning in his gut, the rage in his chest, the possessive fury, which made him want to hunt the guy down and kill him silently in the night. But Teyla was happy. She was happy, and it was his own stupid fault for not recognising his own stupid feelings, so he'd just had to suck it up and pretend everything was 'fine' and 'good' and other manageable one syllable words that men who didn't talk about crap like that hid behind. He threw his picked-clean bone on to the bonfire and wiped his greasy hands down his shirt, because slobby behaviour might draw Teyla out from wherever she was hiding, and a telling-off was better than nothing. He belched, just for good measure, drawing an approving roar from the pack of Marines nearby. Still no Teyla.

Another rib? Or maybe on to the ruus wine? Lorne was in charge at home, a Jumper patrol was keeping an eye out for stray Darts; John could drink away his pain with a clear conscience.

"Colonel?"

"Hey, Carson."

"It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Remind me to go over flight protocols with you."

"I'm sorry about that, John. I just, I don't know, felt the urge!"

"Well don't. Feel the urge, that is. Without checking first." Torture. It was torture and he didn't want to pretend any more.

"Are you alright, John?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm good. Fine. Just standing here being good and fine."

"You should be sitting down with that knee! And keeping your wrist elevated! You're lucky it wasn't worse!"

John shrugged and grunted neutrally. Carson twitched and fidgeted.

"John..."

"Don't."

"John, you should..."

"No, I shouldn't." He closed his eyes, shutting out the cheerful firelight and laughing couples, and bit his lip, hard, forcing down the rising tide of hurt. Kanaan would probably ask her to marry him, and then John would have to smile and congratulate them both and pretend to be pleased, until no-one was looking and he could slip away and punch a tree until the physical pain outweighed the anguish in his heart. He felt Carson's hand on his shoulder.

"John, open your eyes. Look."

Yeah, c'mon, Sheppard, can't fall apart in front of the troops; stop being a coward. He opened his eyes and and his vision was a blur of orange glow and black shapes. He blinked, and there was Kanaan, in sharp focus beneath the floral arch, his eyes full of love and warmth as they lingered on the face of his partner; his partner whose long, blonde braid gleamed in the firelight, and who gazed back at Kanaan with happiness shining in her tear-filled eyes.

"That's not..."

Carson gave a pleased, "hmm," of satisfaction.

"But..."

"She's one of the refugees. Love at first sight, apparently. John? Colonel? Are you alright?"

John felt the rough grass prickling through the seat of his pants. He looked up at Carson, whose concerned face was hovering above him. His fingers curled into the stalks to either side and gripped hard, grounding him to the solid earth. Carson sat down next to him and held his uninjured wrist.

"I'm okay."

"You're white as a sheet and your pulse is racing."

"I'm, uh..." John searched, fruitlessly, for a suitable word.

"Relieved? Hopeful? Nauseous?"

"Yeah. Those." He frowned. "And angry."

"Angry? Why?"

"Kanaan. I should punch him for two-timing Teyla."

Carson huffed a laugh. "Let it go, John. Just be thankful."

"She might not..."

"She will." Carson's arm squeezed his shoulders. "She will, John."

John ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Okay. So, where is Teyla?"

oOo

It was weird, Rodney thought. Very weird, and he could tell by the almost comical height Ronon's eyebrow had achieved, that he thought the same. Rodney took another flatbread, piled a little, then a little more of everything in it, and rolled it up, in a methodical effort to stoke himself up for his stint under the flowery arch. There they went again. Amelia, spouting some nonsense that wasn't even funny, and Jennifer laughing and clapping like a seal on steroids, if that wasn't an unkind thing to think about his beloved wife; or even if it was. Weird, he thought again, and especially weird because to begin with, the Jumper ride had been so excruciatingly tense that even the Marines had been quiet and well-behaved, like timid little sit-up-and-beg puppies on their best puppy behaviour. And then it was as if a truce had been declared, or maybe a competition, to see who could be the bestest, nicest, kindest, girliest best-friend-forever. Women; sure, you could love them, but as for understanding them? Rodney would prefer a nice little comparative analysis of quantum field theory, as manifested in Asgard, Wraith and Ancient technology, any day of any week on any planet, thank you very much.

"Amelia!" Ronon jerked his head toward the arch, currently vacant. Amelia's raised eyebrow could have rivalled one of Ronon's own, but she rose from the bench and followed him.

Rodney chewed and swallowed the last of his wrap, squared his shoulders and stood. "Shall we?" he said, with masterful authority.

"Yes, of course, dear," Jennifer replied, with unrealistic wifely agreement.

They stood by the arch while Ronon and Amelia said their piece to each other. It didn't look very romantic to Rodney's eyes. Ronon looked sheepish and mumbled something like, "You know I love you, right?" to which Amelia responded with an evasive smirk, and something about, "showing him in the woods later." Ronon seemed satisfied, anyway.

Rodney lifted his chin, and grasping Jennifer's hand firmly, towed her into the softly-lit space under the arch. He faced her, took a deep breath, and began his prepared speech, wishing he'd brought his prompt cards after all.

"Jennifer!" Heads turned their way at his fine oratorical style. Encouraged, he continued. "You are the love of my life! The one to whom I have sworn to remain loyal, forsaking all others!"

He took another breath, pleased with the ripple of appreciation running through the assembled crowd. His next words, however, were cut short, as his wife's hands fisted to either side of his collar and jerked him forward, whereupon any other sentiments he might have tried to express were completely smothered by the forcible application of her lips to his. His surprised squeak was lost in the kiss, which, as he followed her lead (it would be rude not to), was rapidly deepening into an all-out, passionate, tongue-wrestling match. The hands left his collar, one combing through his hair to keep his head exactly where she wanted it, the other sliding down over the small of his back and lower, to caress and then massage his left buttock. His wife was fondling his ass in public. Rodney mentally shrugged and went with it, mirroring her moves, the whistles, calls and cheering growing in his ears, until suddenly he was alone, reeling beneath the arch, and Jennifer was shooting him a highly-charged glance over her shoulder as she walked, no sashayed, back to the feast. He followed her and sat down, affecting an air of unconcern under the onslaught of Ronon's back-slapping appreciation.

"Rodney, what's this?" Jennifer drew out a slip of paper from beneath his plate.

He took it and unfolded it. Neat, anonymous block letters directed him to a rendezvous in the forest, 'beneath the pine trees'. It was signed, 'Sheppard'.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing important." More weirdness. Was this really from John? And where was John, anyway? It was probably just a festival prank; he'd indulge whoever it was by going along with it. Rodney checked his watch; an hour or so before the appointed time. And there was still plenty to eat.

oOo

Teyla had stayed with Torren in Halling's tent, until her son had fallen asleep. She had not wanted to see Kanaan and his new love make their pledge, nor yet to face her team, though of course they would be sympathetic, each in their own way. And maybe more than sympathetic. How would John react? How did she want him to react? Was the settled path of partnership with the father of her child to suddenly diverge toward new love with her old, dear friend? Perhaps. For now, she allowed her feet to carry her to the edge of the forest and she wandered amongst the groves and clearings, fairy lit in red and green and yellow, linked by meandering paths where couples might linger hand-in-hand. There was still a dark unease at the back of her mind, but now with it came an urge, a pull into the deeper forest, beyond the lovers' glades, and into the dark ancient heart of the woodland. The pull became imperative and, with part of her mind Teyla wondered why she allowed it to draw her, alone, without weapon or radio, far in amongst the shadows. Her limbs felt heavy, her mind clouded, and she became aware of a voice sounding in her head, the darkly mocking voice of the urge that was drawing her onward.

_"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,"_

Teyla shook her head, but it gave her no release.

_"Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,"_

She stumbled and put out a hand to catch a sturdy branch, its bark, smooth and cool beneath her palm. The voice drew her on.

_"Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,"_

Her eyelids began to droop but still her body moved.

_"With sweet musk roses and with eglantine,"_

The forest floor rose into a bank, softly covered with fallen leaves and the summer's rampant growth of herbs.

_"There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,"_

Teyla's knees sagged and she fell forward, into the gentle green scent and cushioning leaves.

_"Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight."_

Far above her, between the branches of the reaching trees, starlight glimmered, but was then obscured by a looming shadow; a pale-faced shadow with eyes more green and ancient than the hidden heart of the forest. Teyla's eyes closed and her body relaxed utterly into deep slumber, and the voice, still mocking, echoed down the corridors of her dreams.

_"Lord, what fools these mortals be."_


	4. Act IV

John watched the sleeping child. Distant firelight outlined the rounded fullness of Torren's cheek, glimmered on the soft, moist lips, and highlighted the creases of his small, curled fists. He had been so tiny, that first time John had held him, wrapped in Rodney's jacket, bathed, then, in the eerie light from the Dart's control display rather than friendly firelight. John had carried him away to safety against the odds, carried him with joy and hope for a new future, and had not felt the pain of his injuries until the baby was lifted from his arms. And Teyla had named him first for her father, but then for John.

She was not here, nor at the feast, nor by the fire. He turned to leave the tent, and found Kanaan and his new partner in the entrance.

"Colonel Sheppard." Kanaan looked uncomfortable, but the woman smiled.

"Kanaan," he acknowledged, neutrally.

"Uh, this is..."

"Hiledra!" She smiled brightly.

John made an attempt to return her smile. "I was just going." He made to pass them.

"Colonel!"

John stopped.

Kanaan's eyes rested on his son, then drifted over the patterned rugs that carpeted the tent, and then finally, he looked at John. "It was always you," he said.

John looked back; the man he thought Teyla had loved, the father of her child, the man who had had the courage to speak and act when John hadn't even recognised his own feelings.

"She loves you," said Kanaan, simply. "And you love her. Don't you?"

Even now it was hard to say, nearly a lifetime of suppression closing his mouth and sealing his throat. "Yeah," he managed, his voice cracked and husky. "Yeah, I do."

oOo

There were honey cakes dotted with tiny purple crystallised flowers, and these proved sufficiently magnetic to her husband's gaze that Jennifer was easily able to slip away. She reached the sheltering arms of the forest and looked back. Rodney was smiling at Ronon, talking, eating and gesticulating at the same time, his face alight with fervent energy; those blue eyes that she loved would be flashing and darting, with merriment or disdain, reflecting the quick tangential dashes of his mind. But in Jennifer's mind the blue became overlaid with mesmeric yellow-green orbs, and she turned away from the festive scene and wove her way beneath the shifting branches, green and red light casting sinister dancing shadows about her.

She had kissed Rodney beneath the arch, and her passion had been real and present and immediate. But all the while doubt had chipped away at her; doubt of his sincerity, doubt of her own. There should be no place in her heart for thoughts of pale skin beneath black leather, or penetrating slit-pupilled eyes in an angular, sneering face; yet these things were ever-present, goading her with her treachery. Jennifer clasped her hand tightly around the device in her pocket; she would discover the strength of her husband's loyalty. And perhaps, if his love were steadfast and true, it would be enough to strengthen her own tainted heart.

oOo

"This way!" Amelia pushed through a cluster of tall ferns, their fronds black against the indigo sky, and stood at the top of the bank, a dark silhouette with a flash of wide, excited eyes.

"What's this all about, Amelia?" John slipped in the damp loam, jarred his knee and wrist and cursed under his breath.

"We're nearly there. You should see this!" She sounded unlike herself; eager, and yet with a hard, brittle edge to her voice.

John patted his thigh holster, checking his sidearm's presence. This had better be cool or dangerous or both; anything less wouldn't be worth the diversion from his search for Teyla. He reached the top of the slope and stumbled out into the open. A moonlit scene met his eyes, a clearing, carpeted with swathes of tiny white flowers, their faces turned up to catch the silvery light. And Amelia, her hair pulled free of its ponytail, smiling at him.

"The Athosians call them moonflowers," she said. "They only open in moonlight and they only grow here, in this forest."

John's knee was aching and his sprained wrist throbbed. "You dragged me out here to look at flowers?"

"Not just flowers." She slowly pulled down the zipper of her jacket and walked toward him. He noted the exaggerated sway of her hips.

"Oh." His eyes skittered away from her sultry gaze. "Look, Amelia, I don't think Ronon..."

"He's not here. It's just me. And you." She laid a hand on his chest, but he took a step back.

"Am I missing something here? Because I thought..." A soft finger was laid on his lips, but he sidestepped and moved away, out into the clearing, his boots crushing the tiny flowers.

"Come on, John." She followed him, pushing forward into his space. He backed away again. "It really is just you, me and the moonflowers. One little kiss won't hurt."

"It will when Ronon finds out." A bitter scent rose from the crushed flowers. He moved into the shadow of a tree and then its trunk was at his back. She was reaching forward to cup his face. "Amelia, no!" He gripped her wrist, hard. "You don't want me! You've got Ronon!"

Her eyes hardened. "Have I?"

The fern fronds moved at the edge of the clearing. Amelia's other hand shot out and her fingers curled and dug into the hollow of his collarbone, crushing nerve against bone. His knees folded and he sagged against her, and she was plastering messy kisses to his mouth, his jaw, his brow. Sensation returned and he twisted away but she pinched hard again, and again he sagged.

There was an outraged, anguished roar and a crashing charge, tearing through the undergrowth. John was torn out of Amelia's grasp, a huge hand clamping onto his shoulder, and then a hammer blow struck his jaw. It struck again and he was flung aside, his ears ringing from another furious bellow. A figure stood above him, fists clenched, chest heaving. Then it was gone and heavy, thudding treads receded into the distance.

John lay amid the wreckage of broken white blossom. The moon seemed to shine more brightly, capturing the scene in a sharp freeze-frame of dreadful clarity. He heard Amelia's quick, in-drawn breath of shock and couldn't suppress his own pain-filled groan.

"Colonel! I'm sorry! Are you alright?" She knelt down next to him.

"Just... Just leave me alone." It hurt to speak. "Go." Still, she lingered. "Go on, get lost!"

She fled, a sob escaping her lips. He felt no pity.

John sat up slowly, his head pounding, his vision spinning. He gently touched his cheek and his jaw, hissing in pain.

"What have you done?"

John looked up, his stomach lurching at the movement, and a black shape loomed amongst the crazy, dancing stars. The voice was flat and cold.

"How could you betray your friend?"

"No, I..."

"I had thought you a man of honour. I..." The cold voice cracked and its despairing, wounded words froze his heart. "I had thought that you might love me."

She left and he was alone once more.

oOo

'Beneath the pine trees,' Rodney thought, scornfully. He knew the writer referred to the lone stand of pine trees that projected high above the mix of broad-leaved woodland, but thought they might have chosen somewhere closer for their prank; somewhere nearer to the fire and the food.

Jennifer had gone. She had barely spoken to him since their passionate clinch beneath the arch, which had been all very fine and good for his image as an irresistibly attractive man, but it had derailed most of the deep and meaningful statements he'd wanted to make to her. At least he was free to attend his assignation and, thinking that it was probably a trick to make him look foolish, he arrived at the appointed place early. The ground was littered with pine-needles, rendering his footsteps silent, and it would have been completely dark beneath the overlapping boughs, except a single strand of green fairy lights had been hung to illuminate a fallen log. The silence and the eerie light would make a very sinister lovers' seat, although, as it had been rolled tight against two huddling trunks, at least reclining was an option. Rodney hid behind one of the trunks and waited.

A night bird called, making him jump. Distant laughter rang out, and from far away came a great shout and then another; somebody's evening wasn't going so well.

A sigh and a creak as the log shifted indicated an arrival. Rodney peered between the trunks. Even green-lit, he knew that softly waving golden hair: Jennifer. For the second time that day he froze, irresolute, knowing he should declare himself, yet wondering if this was the only way to find out what was really going on with his wife.

"So, this is it," she said. "I'm really going to do this."

What? What was she going to do? Had she agreed to meet someone here? Rodney felt his jaw tense and his mouth flatten into a grim line.

"And if he rejects me, I'll know. I'll know that there's nothing going on." She sighed and shook her head. A hand ran through her hair and he caught a green flash off her wedding band. "Nothing going on with him, at least." She stood and began to pace, back and forth.

And yet again, the need for names. Nothing going on with who?

Both hands were raised to her head now, the fingers writhing and pulling at her hair. "Those eyes, those green eyes! In my mind all the time!" She stopped, her hands fell and stroked, sensually, each down the opposite arm. "And that skin, so pale, so smooth!"

Rodney turned away and sank down to the needle-covered earth. He should have known he'd never be enough for her. Maybe she still loved him, but her love must be a pale phantom-like thing, to drift aside so easily for the lusty fascination of some green-eyed Marine, or maybe an Athosian. Had she agreed to meet them here? Rodney rolled his heavy head round to glance between the tree trunks, and the hollow emptiness of his despair was replaced by confusion, and then by anger.

Jennifer, his wife, the form that he loved, had flickered away, leaving the image of his best friend. So, that was why he was here, why he'd been summoned; to be tested and, perhaps, found wanting. Was that the point? Did she actually just need Rodney to betray her, so that she wouldn't have to feel guilty about going off with her green-eyed lover? Fine, then! If that was what she was after, it could easily be arranged. Rodney prepared to slip silently out from behind the tree trunks and approach noisily from a different direction.

But someone else was coming. Teyla stepped uncertainly into the circle of light, and even without the green hue, her face would have been grey-tinged and forbidding. The green lights flickered.

"Hey, Teyla," drawled 'John'.

Teyla's eyes widened. Her fingers curled and uncurled. Rodney shrank down further.

"Colonel Sheppard," she said coldly.

"Uh, I kinda agreed to meet someone here, so, I don't suppose..."

Teyla's nostrils flared and she tossed her head in a gesture of disgust. "That I could move along and leave you a clear path for your disgraceful conduct? I do not understand you, John! Were it not for the evidence of my own eyes, I would not have believed it possible!"

The fairylights flickered again, off and on, and, as the shadows danced, Teyla's stern features appeared cruel, like a vengeful spirit. What had John done? Jennifer played her next move badly.

"C'mon, Teyla, John Sheppard always gets the girls, you know that!"

Rodney's sparring sessions paid off. He saw the tightening around Teyla's eyes and when the lights went out completely, he surged upward, pushing Jennifer out of the way and taking the savage blow himself.

"You are not worth it!" Teyla spat, out of the darkness, and then she was gone, leaving Rodney sprawled over the log, and the still disguised Jennifer on the ground next to him.

oOo

Ronon ran in a storm of fury and pain; his clenched fists pumped, his boots thudded, as if he were fighting the air and the earth and the night itself. Gone were the thoughts of love and marriage and family, gone the sense of belonging and friendship. He ran, as he had run for years, in desperate loneliness, without hope of safe haven, without companionship, without any goal except to run and keep running.

Far behind, someone called his name over and over, but still he ran, stumbling and falling in the dark, ripped by stinging branches, torn by tangling briars, as hurt and betrayal whipped and tore at his heart.

He fell and flew and landed hard at the foot of a sharp incline, the breath knocked out of his lungs. Gasping and clawing at the bare earth, he tried to rise, but collapsed, exhausted. Though his body was spent, his mind ran on, and he saw, again, the image of his lover and his friend, wrapped in a clinging, urgent embrace; she, to whom he had dedicated his heart, and he, to whom he had sworn his loyalty. Had they planned and plotted and laughed behind his back? Had they found amusement in his awkward admissions of tender feelings? Ronon swore to be revenged on both of his betrayers, and in the dark swirl of his anguished mind, their faces, contorted with spite and scorn, spun and danced and, like a creeping, snagging briar winding through, there sounded a cruel voice, thick with derision:

_"Here fallen now in dark uneven way,  
Our brave Satedan, haste, make no delay.  
Rise ye now and seek a place to fight,  
'Gainst friend and lover both, revenge this spite!"_

oOo

"Teyla! Teyla, love, what's wrong?"

"Carson!" Teyla massaged her sore hand, wishing she'd hit John again, or had her sticks with her. "I do not wish to speak! To anyone!" She turned toward another magically lit lovers' path, her heart on fire with hurt and anger.

"No, wait, Teyla! Atlantis called! Todd's escaped! And nobody's answering their radios!"

"Todd?" Teyla's hand went to her ear, but there was nothing there. Had she dropped her earpiece? She had been asleep, and had woken to see John and Amelia, wrapped in each other's arms. She swallowed, her head swimming suddenly.

"Teyla?"

There was an arm around her and she sank to the ground, letting her head fall between her knees.

"Have you been fighting?"

She felt the doctor take her hand and gently manipulate the joints.

"You need some ice on this. What happened? Did the Colonel not find you?"

" _I_ found _him!_ " Her voice was filled with bitterness. "I should have known better! This night has truly revealed his intentions!"

"I'm sure the Colonel's intentions are nothing but honourable! Tell me, what's happened?"

She shook her head, the moonlit scene forcing its way into her thoughts.

"Teyla, John loves you! He might not be very good at saying it, but when he realised tonight that you were free... You should have seen the hope in his eyes!"

"I have seen other things in John's eyes tonight. Things that I cannot forgive!"

oOo

"Rodney! Are you alright? Look at me!" The green lights once more illuminated the scene and Jennifer could see the imprint of Teyla's fist on her husband's jaw.

"Sheppard! What have you done to Teyla?"

She was still John! What would John say? Jennifer shrugged. "Dunno. She seemed pretty pissed."

"That's one way to describe it." Rodney hauled himself up onto the log and probed his jaw, easing it from side to side. "It's probably broken!"

"Oh, no, I don't think so, Rodney!" Jennifer stopped, cleared her throat gruffly and said, "Quit belly-aching, McKay. You're fine!" Was that Sheppard-ish? Jennifer remembered her task. "Hey, in fact, I'd say you're more than fine!" She shuffled closer to her husband, so that they were thigh-to-thigh. 

"Some space, please!" Rodney moved away. 

So far, so good. What should her next move be? Nothing too smooth.

"So, I was thinking, how about it?"

"How about what?"

"Uh, you know, you and me?"

Rodney slowly turned to face his best friend and team leader. His eyes looked green and accusing in the strange light.

"Where are they hiding?"

"Huh?"

Rodney got up and started peering behind trees. "The Marines! Where are they?"

"No Marines here, McKay!"

"Oh, really!" He folded his arms and brought out his best defensive posture. "So, you wrote me _un petit billet doux_ in order to lure me out here to make love to me, is that right? You expect me to believe that?"

It was easy to be dumbfounded in the face of such disbelief. "Uh, well, yeah!" Jennifer tried for John's puppy-eyed, butter-wouldn't-melt look. And she must have nailed it, because Rodney's expression softened. He sat down next to her.

"Really?" There was hope in his voice. Hope, when despair crept into Jennifer's heart.

"Yeah, really. I, uh, I've been thinking about it for a while. With you, I mean. And I know you're with Jennifer and everything, but that doesn't seem to be going too well, so, I thought, maybe..." The words forced their way past the lump in her throat, and Sheppard's voice sounded even more husky and sincere.

"Oh." The word was small and soft; a quiet revelation that landed with leaden weight on Jennifer's shoulders. "I just didn't think that could ever happen. With you. So, I guess, yes. My answer is yes." She felt the familiar fingers on her cheek and, as he had done so many times, Rodney drew her face around, to look into her eyes. He leant forward and gently brushed her lips with his.

Jennifer leapt up and tried to laugh, hating herself. "Fooled you, McKay! Fooled you real good!" She didn't stop to see the hurt on her husband's face, the hurt of hopes raised and dashed; her own hopes were dashed to pieces.

oOo

Clouds flitted across the face of the moon and John blundered through the trees in near darkness. He rebuked himself as he limped along; no flashlight, no radio (where had that gone?), no idea if he was going in the right direction and, worst of all, no team. Not even the rawest of new recruits would have let themselves get into such a stupid situation. He squinted into the darkness; there was light, far ahead. Red and yellow wavering light; the bonfire? He wanted to hurry toward it, but the ground was rough and he couldn't see his footing. He was hurting enough as it was, without another fall, his jaw and cheekbone throbbing in concert with his knee and wrist. A sharp crack came from his right. John slowly drew his sidearm and stood, still and silent, feeling exposed even among the tangle of the woodland. He had not been able to move with any degree of stealth and anyone, friend or foe, could easily have homed in on his position. The lights were still distant. John was alone in the dark, and even when he reached the light, even surrounded by people, he would still be alone. 'I had thought you a man of honour.' 'I had thought that you might love me.' Teyla's words haunted him and John tried to push them down to that hidden place of shame inside himself, where so many such things resided. They would not go, and he stumbled forward, surrounded by memories as black and hard as the close-packed trees, struggling to find a path to the light, both in body and in mind.

There was another crack, a splintering of shattered twigs and a sudden rush. John ran. The light danced ahead, he tripped and careened, staggered and reached out, but the crashing, stamping pursuer came relentlessly on, almost on his heels, but never quite catching up. Was his hunter toying with him? Pain shot from his knee at every frantic step, but he was nearly there, nearly at the light. John hurtled out into the clearing. There was no rescue, no friends were waiting, nothing; just two crossed strands of lights, yellow and red, swaying in the fitful night breeze. He turned, weapon raised. The crashing pursuit had stopped. His panting breaths came harsh and fast. He adjusted his footing, gritting his teeth. And out from the darkness, red light glinting on accusing eyes, stepped Ronon; his friend, his teammate.

"You gonna shoot me, Sheppard?"

John dropped his weapon. It landed with a thud on the mossy ground and he backed away, showing his empty palms.

"I could shoot you," said Ronon.

"Yeah, you could." John licked his dry, cracked lips. "You could do that."

"But I won't."

"That's good." John watched Ronon's eyes, tensing himself to react. "Because I really don't want to be shot."

"Why, Sheppard? Why d'you have to do that? Why her?"

John swallowed. Ronon's fists clenched and unclenched, the muscles in his neck corded and he bared his teeth. There was no good answer he could give.

"You should ask Amelia."

Ronon took a step forward. "You're blaming her? You're saying it wasn't your fault?"

"I'm saying talk to her."

Ronon ignored him. "I trusted you. I trusted you!"

A flicker in the wrathful eyes and John dived to one side as Ronon launched himself forward. John rolled and came up in time to block one blow, but the next drove into his solar plexus and he dropped like a stone, gasping and choking. He felt himself lifted by his collar, and his limbs dangled, unresponsive. Another hammer-blow landed on his jaw, his head snapped back and the sky sparkled with too many stars. They flickered and failed one by one, and dancing red and yellow, and silver starlight, faded to black.

oOo

Hate and hurt and anger swirled and writhed; jealousy, bitterness, grief and betrayal twisted within his far-extended tendrils of telepathy, obscuring hope and warmth and the bonds of friendship. He spread his arms, long fingers grasping at the air, sharp nails clawing at foolish human minds, and he laughed at the pain he had wrought, the revenge he had achieved; laughed long and harsh and cruel until the forest reverberated with gloating malice.

But, as growing vines may wither, one dark creeper, tipped with anger and hatred, faltered and lost its grip, curled and shrivelled as a night terror fades and dies in the dawn light. It was not yet dawn, and the Wraith considered this small seed of light, reached again toward it with his mind, and was singed by its growing heat. He hissed at the unexpected sting of pain, shrugged his angular shoulders, and left the warmth to flourish or fail as nature would have it.

oOo

Ronon drew back his arm, nails biting into his iron-tight fist, for the killing blow that Satedan honour demanded. The plains of his victim's face were highlighted red and yellow, his throat exposed as his head lolled slack, Ronon's tight grip on his shirt the only thing holding him up. The eyelids twitched. He moaned. The drawn-back fist shook, powerful muscles trembling. Conflict stayed Ronon's hand, held back the release of pent-up rage, as hurt warred with loyalty, anger with the ineradicable bonds of shared hardship. This man whose life he held in his grasp, this brother-in-arms against the scourge of the Wraith - it had been he who had offered Ronon a way out of the long, long race for his life, he who had offered a place, a home, a team to belong to, he who had followed Ronon to Sateda when he had been retaken. Could he kill this man and add him to the long list of Wraith he had killed with pleasure, deserving their fate?

The thin red strand of lights fizzed, sparked and went out. Ronon saw John, his friend.

His raised fist relaxed, trembling with dispersed tension, his arm fell, and as his grip slackened, John slid to the ground. Ronon took two clumsy steps backward and sank to the ground himself, his head falling into his hands.


	5. Act V

He breathed in the scent of the night, the scent of freedom that he had long desired, the ancient being that they called Todd; so cursory a name to describe such a long, long life, sustained by so many small, bright human flashes. He felt the turn of this world and that its sun's rays would soon breach the far horizon, and he knew he must depart, leaving his amusements to their short spans of strife and transitory joy.

Short spans indeed, and yet so full, and some shining with insight and intellect, their creations of rhyme and song holding such beauty and truth that perhaps it was right that their world should remain hidden from the knowledge of others of his kind.

Todd lifted up his arms and, with self-mocking grandeur, proclaimed his verses to the unhearing forest.

_"Now wither, creeping tendrils of my play,  
As flees the darkness at the touch of day.  
Though, by my will, divided for a night,  
Such bonds hold true when true hearts have clear sight,  
And thus my game of shadows soon must end,  
Uniting love with love, and friend with friend!"_

oOo

Rodney wandered, not marking his path, stunned by the enormity of his loss. He recalled the tender, tentative steps of his and Jennifer's courtship, precariously built around the magnitude of the events in the last few months before Atlantis' sojourn on Earth, then blossoming into love and commitment as they lingered within sight of the Golden Gate Bridge. When and how had it all gone wrong?

He tripped over some shadow-shrouded obstacle and fell forward, hands sinking into the dry leaf mould. The night was at its darkest and he had strayed from any marked path. Rodney was lost; lost, and it didn't seem to matter. A heavy pall of defeat lay on his heart; a thick suffocating layer, blotting out the hopes he'd had for the future and making him question the past. She had been bound to leave him in the end; why would any woman want to stay with him? So arrogant, so impatient, so totally incapable of normal social interaction. What kind of a father would he have made? He sank forward, and lay, face down in the dirt.

His nose itched. Something was crawling up his leg and something else scratched at his stomach where his jacket had ridden up. Was this what he had come to? Was he the kind of man who lay about, giving up, letting 'somethings' crawl inside his clothes? No, absolutely he wasn't! Rodney's irritation gave rise to anger, and his anger sparked arrogance, which ignited the illusory weight of his self-doubt until it flared and disappeared like a strip of magnesium ribbon. He leapt to his feet, flicking and batting at his clothes and jumping up and down to dislodge stray creatures and dark thoughts alike.

"No!" he shouted. "No, I don't accept any of it!" He spun in place and shouted his defiance to the night. "This is Dr Rodney McKay and I don't give up! I don't give up what's mine without a fight!" He searched his surroundings for any sign to tell him which way to go. "Jennifer," he said, firmly. "Find her, tell her I don't care. She's mine and I love her and that's all that matters." Far off through the criss-crossed branches, faint slivers of light penetrated. Rodney set off toward them with determination and a steady tread, unheeding of ruts and roots, tripping and falling again and again, and each time rising without complaint and adjusting his course toward the guiding light. He burst, panting and sweating through a final patch of clinging briars and out into the open.

A figure lay crumpled on the ground in the dim yellow glow and nearby, a hunched shape, turned toward the darkness of the forest.

"Ronon! What?" Rodney ran toward the still shape and crouched down. "Jennifer! No! Ronon, what happened? Oh, my dear love!" He groaned at the bruised, bloody features and gathered up head and shoulders, his arms wrapped tight around, feeling for a pulse.

"I found him with Amelia." Ronon didn't turn around.

"What, you did this? It isn't Sheppard, Ronon! It's Jennifer!"

"What're you talking about, McKay?"

Rodney patted the pale, battered face, staring at the closed lids. "Come on, wake up, I love you, I forgive you, wake up now, my love, please!"

"Uh, Rodney." He ignored Ronon.

Dark eyelashes fluttered, slits of hazel appeared. "Didn't know you cared, McKay."

"What?" He moved the torn shirt aside but encountered only bare skin. 

"Rodney, look."

John stood at the edge of the clearing. His cheeks were wet and one hand came up to wipe away tears. "You love him, don't you?" he said.

Rodney looked down at his friend and back up at his wife. "No! That is, yes! As a friend! Take that thing off!"

John reached beneath his shirt and then Jennifer was there. "I know you love him, you don't have to hide any more," she said, sadly.

"No! No!" He pushed the real, battered John into a slumped, but upright position and leapt up. "I knew it was you and I played along and I'm sorry!" He moved toward her, but she turned away.

"I'm no good for you, Rodney. I'm sorry, but it's over!"

"No! It's not!"

"Someone's coming!" Ronon drew his blaster.

oOo

"Ronon, put away your weapon."

It was Teyla. Teyla, once more above him, like a statue of reproach, while he sat in a pathetic heap on the ground. John let his head sag forward and closed his eyes against the spinning of his surroundings.

"Teyla! Please say you know the way out of here! I want to go home!"

"No, Jennifer, listen! This is all wrong!"

Yes, it is wrong, Rodney! You kissed him!"

"But I knew it was you!"

Ronon laughed, bitterly. "That's it, I'm going."

"What? Where? No!"

"Get out of my way, McKay. I'm getting my stuff from Atlantis, then I'm gone. It's over."

"Stop!"

John raised his head at the sound of Amelia's voice.

"Stop. Blame me if you want, but it wasn't the Colonel's fault!" She limped forward from the shadowy eaves of the forest, her face pale and scratched, her clothes dirty and torn.

"Yeah, right. I know what I saw." Ronon folded his arms, defensively.

"I, too." Teyla avoided John's gaze and turned her head away.

"You saw this!" Amelia marched up to Rodney, and suddenly he was sagging against her. She released him and he stepped back hurriedly.

"What the hell, Amelia, that hurt!" He rubbed the top of his chest.

"You pinch the nerve and down they go! You must know that move, Ronon! And you too, Teyla!"

"Okay, yeah, but why d'you do it?"

Jennifer stepped forward. "Um, well, I suppose I can answer that. I told her what you said to me, about you and John."

"Oh."

"Ronon? What've you been saying?" John's head throbbed. He couldn't make out his friend's features in the sickly yellow light. Or Teyla's.

"I was trying to get Jennifer off McKay's back about you two, so I told her me and you... you know."

John groaned into his hands.

"So why did you pretend to be Sheppard?" demanded Rodney. "If you thought he was with Ronon?"

"I overheard John and Ronon; Ronon saying he was going to ask Amelia to marry him, and telling John he should be with you!"

"Ask me to marry him?"

"With Rodney?"

"With me?"

"I was talking about Teyla!"

"Teyla. Oh. Oh, no." Jennifer put her face in her hands.

"I do not understand. How could Jennifer pretend to be John?"

"Like this."

John looked up at himself and groaned again. The image flickered back to his friend's wife. He closed his eyes and stretched out his aching knee, massaging it with his uninjured hand. Nobody spoke.

oOo

Ronon looked at Amelia, at the woman who had used his best friend against him, her face white and anxious, one hand half held out, too afraid to reach for him properly. He looked inside himself, at his own actions; his lack of trust in his friend and leader, his rage, his violence. He had come so close to murder that that night; so close to losing everything. He looked at the two paths his life could take, and without further thought he stepped forward and, enfolding Amelia completely in his strong arms, he chose the path that led to happiness.

oOo

Teyla knelt on the ground next to John, her feet tucked beneath her, her hands on her knees. His eyes were closed. She did not reach out to him; she did not know if he would welcome her touch.

"I am sorry, John."

"'S okay," he whispered.

"No, John, it is not okay. I doubted you, mistrusted you, believed such dreadful things of you."

"Well, yeah, that is pretty bad."

"And now you are hurt and it is my fault."

"I think they were Ronon's fists."

"I should have stopped him."

"I'm not gonna argue with that."

"John, please. Will you look at me?"

He raised his head wearily and she saw that one of his cheeks was cut and bruised, his jaw was swollen and his lip split. Teyla felt tears spring to her eyes. "I was jealous," she said. "Jealous of you with Amelia. Jealous of you with anyone."

His brows lowered and he looked into her eyes with dark intensity. "Teyla, I don't have anyone. I don't want anyone." His eyes fell and then came back to hers. "Except you." He reached out slowly and the tips of his fingers brushed gently down the side of her face and on, lightly stroking her hair and then resting softly on her shoulder.

Teyla placed both of her hands on John's upper arms and leant toward him until their foreheads touched. She breathed in and out slowly, savouring this one small shared moment in time, this brink of something more, something far greater than she had ever known, with this man, her friend, her companion. Then their foreheads parted and their lips met, featherlight, with care and tenderness and the promise of passion, comfort, understanding, and forgiveness.

oOo

Jennifer could not face her husband. He stood close behind her, holding her gently. She stepped away.

"Jennifer! Is it really too late? Is there someone else?"

The sadness in Rodney's voice tore her heart. She wanted to cry out her faithfulness, but couldn't.

_"O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hour!"_

Jennifer spun round, her heart thudding sickeningly. There was a swift rattle of drawn weapons. Todd stood before them, his silver-white hair highlighted with a faint hint of the coming dawn, his arms spread wide, black leather hanging like wings about him. He was beautiful and she wanted to leave everyone and be his.

"Todd!"

"John Sheppard!"

"How did..."

"You!" John's words were cut short at Rodney's savage exclamation. Jennifer jumped and shook her head, but her mind was full of green eyes and pale skin. "You! You did this! All of this!"

"What are you on about, McKay?" John's weapon was trained firmly on the Wraith.

"Oh, no, I merely made a few suggestions; to play the 'King of Shadows' was amusing for a while."

"Playing? That's what you call it?" Rodney marched up to the Wraith and poked him repeatedly in the chest. "Get out of my wife's head!"

"Line of fire, Rodney!" John reminded.

Todd merely raised an eyebrow and flourished a casual snapping finger in Jennifer's direction.

She gasped and fell forward on her hands and knees and then warm, sheltering arms were around her and she was pulled close and held and rocked and knew that she loved her husband and was loved in return.

oOo

"What do you propose now, John Sheppard?"

John glared at Todd's mocking face over the barrel of his Beretta. "To take you back to Atlantis."

"Oh, I think not! My time has not been entirely occupied by sport, for while you foolish mortals stumbled about in the dark, I sent my thoughts winging to the skies!"

"Very poetic. Shut up and move!"

A distant whine rose and John's gaze flicked away from his target and up to the sky.

"Indeed, I thank you and yours for the insight into your culture! But now _'night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger'_. Or rather, my swift Dart cuts the clouds and yonder shines the culling beam! Farewell, John Sheppard!"

A silvery beam swept out of the forest and the Wraith was gone.

oOo

Clear, white lines from the Marines' P90s lanced the darkness ahead, and to either side the warm flickering of the Athosians' torches lit the forest with gold.

Teyla had told him to lead the Marines to the spot where they had met and then she had left him. The Marines had told him to stay behind and then plunged into the forest to track seven scattered life signs. But Carson would not be left behind again and had hurriedly gathered a medical kit and followed.

"Life signs have converged, Sir."

"All seven?" Sergeant Stackhouse asked.

"Yes, sir."

What was the devil up to? He'd tricked Carson into letting him go, with his sneaking telepathy, and Carson blushed, again, with shame at the thought. That little mistake was going to take a lot of living down, even if the Wraith hadn't fed on anyone; so far.

Stackhouse's radio squawked and he yelled, "Incoming Dart!"

Chaos erupted. Torches waved madly as the Athosians scattered, white P90 beams sprang up to vertical, and Carson ran back toward the festival ground, then forward, then crouched down with his hands over his head. The dreadful zipping whine dived toward them like a falling bomb, the rattle of automatic fire split the air, then the whine receded sharply, and Carson looked up to see the silver Dart, tiny already, then dwindling to a pin prick, then to nothing. He clambered stiffly to his feet. Shouts echoed through the trees; the Athosians, fearful for their friends and family, calling out reassurance, the Marines checking their numbers. Nobody had been taken.

"The life signs!" Carson dashed forward and snatched the LSD.

"Dr Beckett, how many?"

"Six." He wiped his forehead with a shaking hand. "There are six. Come on, Sergeant. They're straight ahead."

Once more they set forward, the white lights and the flickering orange, until there was movement ahead, black on black, and then a white beam shone on pale skin, and Carson saw his friends, tiredly coming toward him, two by two by two: Amelia and Ronan, and behind them Jennifer and Rodney, and behind them Teyla and John. The Athosians cheered and surrounded the group with light. The Marines, more subdued but equally pleased, surrounded them with firepower.

"Where have you been? Did you see Todd? Did the Dart take him?"

Rodney answered, "In the forest, yes and yes. And we'd like to be out of the forest as soon as possible, if it's all the same to you Carson!" His arm around Jennifer, he set off after the Athosians.

Carson followed. "But what happened? You're all of you torn and scratched! You look like you've been living rough for a couple of weeks not just a few hours! And how did you get that bruise, Rodney?"

"From Teyla's fist."

"I am sorry, Rodney."

"Well I would say that's okay," said Rodney, over his shoulder. "But actually it really hurt and I think one of my teeth is loose!"

"The lot of you are heading for the infirmary! Heaven knows what infections you've picked up!"

"We're fine, Carson!"

Carson observed John's condition for the first time, as torchlight fell on his face. His words were snatched from his mouth, however, by Teyla, who (Carson was pleased to see) had one arm around John's waist and a fiercely proprietorial expression firmly installed on her careworn features.

"You are not fine, John, and will certainly be staying in the infirmary! I believe he may have a concussion, Carson."

"No, I don't!"

"Sheppard, you kept walking into trees before Teyla took you in hand!" Rodney called back. "Just accept it. Your place is now under the thumb of your beloved!"

Jennifer's shoulders shook and Amelia called back. "You go, Teyla!"

"I infer that by 'under the thumb', you mean that John is now under my control," said Teyla.

"At your mercy," agreed Rodney.

"At your command!" Ronon called, and Carson, laughing, realised he could see the sky through the trees, pale grey with dawn light, as they stepped thankfully onto the festival ground.

oOo

The bonfire was a blackened patch of low, smouldering embers, the grass trampled and overlain with a film of dew, the arch, its flowers drooping and wilted; a melancholy sight.

But Teyla smiled and led John to sit on a log, still warm from the fire and went to Halling's tent to collect her son. She carried him, warm and sleepy, in her arms, out of the tent and saw Ronon and Amelia standing once more beneath the arch. The light had risen, and the pale gold increased the warmth in the couple's eyes.

"I wanted to wait," said Ronon. "Make it special."

"This is special enough for me." Amelia leant forward and turned her head to rest her cheek on Ronon's chest.

"Okay, so, uh..."

"Yes," said Amelia.

"Cool," he replied and picked up his wife-to-be and spun her round until she shrieked with laughter.

"Make way, please, I have a few things to say to my wife!"

"Rodney, it's time to go. The Jumper's waiting!"

"Yes, yes, Carson, I know, Jumpers and Gates wait for no man! Well, they'll just have to!" He pulled Jennifer beneath the arch and they stood looking at each other. "Jennifer, I..." Rodney faltered, his throat convulsed. "I..."

Jennifer reached up and touched his cheek. "From this day forward," she said.

"Oh... yes." He smiled and took her hand. "For better, for worse."

"For richer, for poorer." Her hand moved around to the back of his neck.

"In sickness and in health." Rodney let go of Jennifer's hand and slid both arms around her waist.

"To love and to cherish."

"Til death do us part."

They held each other, and any other words that might have been whispered, were carried away on the morning breeze.

oOo

John watched through weary eyes as first Ronon and Amelia, then Rodney and Jennifer, made their own unique pledges beneath the arch. Teyla stood on the far side, Torren in her arms.

"Breakfast!" pronounced Rodney, decidedly, leading Jennifer toward the Jumper. "I'm thinking eggs, pancakes, bacon, syrup..." His voice continued as they climbed the ramp and stepped inside.

"Don't be long, now, John, Teyla!" Carson also retreated to the Jumper.

A cool breeze riffled John's hair. The air was fresh, the sky white with haze that would soon burn off as the light rose, and the day would be hot and humid once more. He yawned and stood, slowly, easing out his knee. 

"John!" Torren reached out to him as Teyla carried her son over the wet, trampled grass. "John bump!" he said accusingly, regarding John's face.

"Yeah, had a few bumps, little guy." He limped forward and they met beneath the bedraggled arch. Torren wriggled and Teyla allowed him to slither out of her arms. He sat on the toe of one of John's boots and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Teyla's gaze rested on John's face, her brows contracting with concern. "John, we do not have to..."

"Yeah. Yeah, we do," he interrupted. Thoughts log-jammed in his mind, as they always did, defying his attempts to express them with any kind of articulacy. He took a breath and let it out. Think of it like a mission, he told himself. His task: to speak his thoughts. To say what was in his mind and in his heart, simply, perhaps clumsily, but with complete honesty.

"I'm sorry," he began. "For not knowing, for not saying. What I felt. A long time ago. I shoulda..." He shook his head. There was no point saying what should have been said or done. "Anyways..." He found his hand creeping up the side of his neck, in that old familiar gesture of awkwardness; he diverted the hand and slid it round Teyla's waist, stepping closer. "Anyways, I, uh..." His eyes had dropped and he lifted them to meet with Teyla's, seeing love, warmth and acceptance. He huffed a small, self-deprecating laugh and she smiled, but didn't interrupt. Her patience melted the frozen words. "I love you, Teyla. Both of you. I want to take care of you and protect you and always be with you. You and Torren. I love you."

Teyla smiled her beautiful, warm, golden smile. "And I love you, John. I want to take care of you and protect you and always be with you. I love _you_."

There were tears in her eyes. John sniffed. Then he grinned and winced. "So, uh... I was thinking a kiss'd be kinda nice right about now, but..."

"Your lip is sore."

"Yeah."

Teyla leant forward and kissed John's unhurt cheek and then his forehead; she looked at him consideringly and then kissed the tip of his nose, and an unbruised section of his jaw. He smiled, lop-sidedly and, he was almost certain, goofily.

"Colonel!" Carson's voice came from the Jumper. "Time to go!"

"I guess 'That's all, folks'," said John, because Shakespeare had nothing on the subtleties of Looney Tunes. "For now. Maybe later?"

Teyla raised an eyebrow, just the barest shade.

"Infirmary. Right," said John, who, though the charge of disobeying orders was justly placed in his record, in clear black and white, decided that, in future, he would obey his chosen commanding officer, because he loved her.

_Exit stage, via Puddlejumper_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed my story and will share your thoughts with me. Thank you for the reviews I’ve already received and for the many kind wishes. I’m doing okay, living according to the ‘It’s Today’ principle (must read that again)!
> 
> The quotes that I’ve used are either lifted straight from a Midsummer Night’s Dream, or are entirely made up, or are a combination. Some plot ideas were taken from Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro.


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